


Dancin' In My Wooden Shoes

by Lupin111



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6332875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupin111/pseuds/Lupin111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian is transferred to Toronto to take over Vanguard's new office, after things in Pittsburgh goes south for him. He literally bumps into someone from his past - a certain blond who ran away to New York five years earlier and was never heard from again.</p><p>No matter how much both Brian and Justin deny that there are any lingering feelings between them, this chance meeting has set them on a course that neither of them ever planned for.</p><p>Beta by Xrifree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Brian Kinney was still trying to get the hang of Toronto. He had been here for four days, and still hadn’t found a place to stay.

When Vanguard decided to expand, Brian had expected to be setting up office in New York, or Chicago, at the very least. However, Vance had bought over a smaller agency in Toronto instead, and merged it with Vanguard. He had sent Brian to oversee things, and ensure that the shift to Vanguard management would be smooth. Plus, there were the usual client meetings, and assuring everyone that all change would be for the better. Brian was surprised to find that he was actually enjoying his new role.

He expected to be there for a month, and probably have frequent trips back and forth thereafter. He had the green light to lease out a condo, ostensibly under the company name. In all likelihood though, Brian would be the only one using it. The choice to make a permanent move to Toronto was a decision left entirely up to him.

Brian had spent the whole day with the agent, one James McMillan, who had increasingly got on Brian’s nerves as the day progressed. He was pompous and stupid and Brian could barely concentrate on the places he was looking at. If he hadn’t been the son of the marketing director of one of the Toronto office’s biggest clients, Brian would have ditched him hours ago.

As it was, Brian had insisted on coffee while they were driving, forced James to stop, and had managed to ‘lose’ James inside a coffee shop. Brian had switched his phone off, and quickly snuck into a random shop nearby, hoping that James would look for him in vain and then disappear.

“We’re uh…just closing…”

Brian ignored the guy, and walked around the store. Anything to avoid James, who Brian knew was walking down the street this very moment.

The curly haired brunette was watching him curiously. He had a purple shirt that was simply too loud for Brian’s taste, and could have easily passed for a younger, shorter, toothier Emmett. He didn’t look too old; Brian pegged him at twenty two or maybe twenty three at best. Though Brian’s gaydar was pinging, the guy definitely wasn’t Brian’s type. The initial, cursory glance was enough to tell Brian that he was too effeminate.

“Watch the coffee, ok?”

Brian nodded absently as he walked about. The shop was small. There were two racks of silk shirts and scarves and another with t-shirts. The silk shirts and scarves were hand painted, while the t-shirts were probably printed via silk screen. There was a sign saying that special orders were undertaken. The whole shop was a strange mix of handmade artsy knickknacks. There were papier-mâché ornaments, sculptures, handmade tea sets and dinner sets (again, a sign saying that more designs were available) and a folder containing photographs of several more designs. There were wooden toys for kids in a small alcove, containing other child-friendly items.       

Further inside the store (more like a hall), Brian paused. One wall had several photographs mounted, all in black and white. They were stills of (presumably) Toronto life, and Brian would have spent more time looking at them, had he not been distracted by the paintings on the other wall.

There were three small paintings, and Brian found them all to be beautiful. But what took his breath away was the much larger canvas that dominated the wall, done exclusively in hues of blue and black. There was a silhouette of a man, cigarette in hand, standing behind a glass, looking at the view outside. Brian would have recognized that view anywhere. It was the view from the loft. _His_ loft.

There was no doubt about it; that was a painting of the view from the loft back in Pittsburgh. In all likelihood, it was a painting of _him_ looking at the view.  Brian’s eyes moved to the artist’s initials. JT.

_Justin Taylor._

 

 

* * *

 

 

**5 years ago**

 

_“Look, I didn't mean to do it. I'm so sorry.”_

_“I told you when I said you can stay here there are rules. Now you've got five minutes to pack your shit, none of which, of course was stolen, and get the fuck out of here!”_

_Brian hadn’t seen Justin since that day. As far as he knew, nobody had. Brian had assumed that Justin went running to Debbie’s, but he hadn’t. Debbie thought that Justin had gone home to Jennifer’s. But Justin hadn’t, because Jennifer had come round to Vanguard wanting to know why Justin was avoiding her._

_For almost three days, every one of them had been on pins. Daphne didn’t know – or wouldn’t say – where Justin was, and neither did anyone else. A week later, Justin left a message on Brian’s answering machine. A short message saying that he was alive, safe, in New York, and that the five hundred dollars he had taken from Brian’s wallet would be replaced soon. Brian had expected the blonde to turn up on his doorstep in a day or two, having gotten tired of the melodrama._

_But Justin had never turned up._

_Jennifer had presumably got a similar phone call, and she called Brian to inform him curtly that Justin was alive and to please not call her again. From that day onwards, Debbie had never brought up the topic of Justin either._

_Three months later, Brian had received a money order for five hundred dollars drawn out from a bank in Pittsburgh, and a small note from Justin, apologizing for all the trouble, and thanking him for all his help. On a hunch, he had called Jennifer’s house, but Jennifer tightly informed him that Justin wasn’t in Pittsburgh. He had never heard from her again._

_Or from Justin._

 

* * *

 

He turned to the curly haired brunette, who anticipated his question, because he promptly replied “That one’s not for sale.”

Brian turned back at the painting. “The artist; do you know who the artist is?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, if you’d like to see some of his other work…oh, here he is, Justin, this gentleman was just asking about the loft painting…”

Brian swivelled around too quickly, without realizing the narrowness of the store or how close he was to the person who had just walked in behind him. Hot coffee splattered all over the blonde.

_Justin._

Brian couldn’t believe his eyes. Justin Taylor was standing in front of him, cursing, coffee all over him. But it was Justin.

It had been 5 years, and Justin had changed. But not by much. His hair was longer, reaching his shoulders, cut in a shaggy, bohemian style. He still didn’t look a day over eighteen, and looked as attractive as Brian had remembered him.

The curly-haired brunette was glaring at Brian. So was his purple shirt. Justin, on the other hand, hadn’t yet looked at Brian, and was busy queening out over his ruined clothes.

“ _Fuck!_ Jerome, what am I going to do! My blazer’s _ruined_. So is my shirt! Jesus fucking Christ! I have no time to dry clean, no blazers here and I’m going to be late for my own show! Fuck!”

“Justin?” Brian spoke, but Justin didn’t even look at him. The way Justin was freaking out, Brian was certain that he hadn’t even heard Brian. Jerome, however, looked at Brian curiously before speaking to Justin.

“I think this would be a good opportunity to call Sugar Daddy and make up with him.”

“ _Jerome!_ This is _not_ the time!” Justin had taken off his blazer and was examining the damage.

“On the contrary, this is the perfect time. You have no time, and no clothes, and little money. He has lots of time and even more money. Call him. He can pick something up for you and be here in forty-five minutes. You’d be late by, what…fifteen minutes maximum. He’s got to be downtown by now, in any event.”

“I’m not running after anyone, especially for their credit cards. Ugh. I’m going to miss my own show. My only decent blazer – fucking ruined.” Suddenly Justin turned to Brian. “This is all your…”

His words died on his lips and his eyes grew wider as he saw Brian for the first time. Recognition was instant. “Brian.”

“You know Coffee Guy?” Jerome was looking from Brian to Justin.

“Brian. Kinney.”

“Oh.” Jerome looked from Justin to Brian, understanding suddenly dawning. He looked at Brian. “So. You’re the guy who fucked Justin before kicking him out. Hm. And now because of you, he’s going to miss his show. Nice.”

“What show? What the fuck are you _doing_ here Justin? You disappear for 5 years and turn up in Toronto of all places? Do you know how worried we were? Not _one_ fucking call, nothing to say that you were alive!”

“What? _You_ kicked _me_ out. Why the fuck would you worry? Besides, I sent you a note. And a cheque. I think I told you that I was alive. _Exactly_ that, if I’m not mistaken.”

Brian opened his mouth, but Jerome beat him to it.

“Ok Justin, focus. The _show_. Clothes. Now. Will you please call –”

“ _No._ I’m not calling anyone.”

“ _What_ show?” These two were beginning to exasperate Brian. He had three dozen questions to ask Justin, but clearly he wasn’t going to get any answers.

Justin continued to glare at him, so Jerome answered.

“Justin – and three other artists – are having their work shown at a gallery today. About five blocks from here. In precisely half an hour. Which we’re going to miss, because he has nothing to wear. All your fault.”

Justin was having a show? Brian was impressed.

“Why don’t you just buy a –”

Justin didn’t even let Brian finish. “Because not all of us mint money, Brian, and besides which, there’s no time.” He looked at Jerome. “Gimme your shirt. Maybe if I roll up the sleeves, no one will notice.”

Jerome stared at Justin, horrified. He looked as if Justin had just asked him for a kidney. “What am _I_ going to wear?”

Justin walked over and picked up one of the silk shirts off the display rack. “Here, you wear this, and be a walking advertisement for us. Come _on_ Jerome, we don’t have time for this!”

Jerome was pouting worse than Justin was. “Ugh. Ok, fine. You better sell something there. _You_ ,” he said, turning to Brian, “don’t touch anything, and try to clean up the mess you made. Make yourself useful.”

The two of them disappeared through the back, and Brian noticed that Jerome had already placed paper towels on the spilt coffee.

What the fuck was Justin doing here? He was obviously doing ok…better than ok, if he was having a show, and clearly he was running this shop with the other guy, Jerome. What the hell had happened since that day when Brian had so unceremoniously kicked him out?

Jerome suddenly appeared, dressed in the silk shirt Justin had given him.

“Coffee Guy, you have to leave now, because I need to close the shop.” Jerome handed him a leaflet. “Half an hour. Five blocks west of here. The Glassman Gallery. If you’re interested. Now. Go.”

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't a very big gallery, and the show encompassed a wide variety of creative work, not all of which Brian would have called art. A lot of the work was of an abstract nature. Each artist had several paintings, as well as photographs or drawings or sculptures and even cartoons.

In Brian's opinion, Justin's work was far superior to the three other artists. He had several paintings that Brian immediately thought would do very well for Vanguard's office.

It wasn't too crowded, but clearly they had some loyal patrons who had turned up for the show. Brian easily spotted those who had turned up for the free wine.

After making inquiries, and confirming the items that he wanted to purchase, Brian made his way over to Justin, who was walking purposefully.

Even in the purple shirt he had borrowed from Jerome, Justin looked amazing. He looked young, bohemian and mature all at the same time. Instinctively, Brian wanted to reach out and touch him, and had to consciously stop himself. He spoke to Justin instead.

"Sunshine. A minute with the artist?"

If Justin was fazed by the use of Debbie's old nickname, he didn't show it.

"Brian. This is a surprise."

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world. You've done some very good work. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

Nothing else was forthcoming from Justin, and Brian felt himself getting irritated. Wasn't he going to at least ask about Debbie, if nothing else?

"You could have called, Justin. A phone call to let us know that you were okay. An email. _Something."_

"Brian, as I recall, I left you a message. And I sent a note with the…uh…money order. What more did you want?

"That's it? A message on my answering machine? I expected a little more than that from you." Brian tried hard to keep his voice cool.

"Why?" Justin, on the other hand, was clearly having no such trouble. His voice was cool and normal, and he was looking at Brian as if they were discussing the weather. "It's not like you really cared about me, Brian; I was only temporary…until you figured out what to do with me."

Brian narrowed his eyes, and Justin gave him a cold smile.

"I'm not as old as you, so my memory works just fine. That's what you told Michael; I heard you. Besides, you wanted me gone, and I left. I was with you only through a 'series of unfortunate circumstances'; again, your words, not mine. I would think that you would have been thrilled to never hear from me again."

Brian wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he tried another approach. "And Deb? She loved you like her own son. You don't think she deserved more?"

"Well, in the universe _I_ inhabit, I'm pretty sure Debbie doesn't have any problems with me. Because when I last spoke to her, oh, about an hour ago, she said that she loves me, and is proud of me." Justin grinned at Brian's shocked expression, and looked downright angelic. "Do you think she was lying to me Brian?"

Little fucker. Justin had been in touch with Debbie the whole time. Brian didn't know with whom he was more mad at; Justin or Debbie, or himself, for not having realized this sooner. As _if_ Justin would have disappeared for 5 years and not called Debbie once. He was such a colossal fool for not figuring this out earlier. He remembered thinking that Debbie had acquired some taste seeing odd new ornaments and trinkets at her place; she hadn't acquired any taste after all – Justin had sent them. Made them, and then sent them.

Justin was back to grinning. "Who do you think posted that money order to you? Not that you would have noticed, but it _was_ from a bank in Pittsburgh."

It was a good thing Jerome interrupted them, because Brian was very close to throttling Justin with his bare hands.

"Ah. Coffee Guy. You made it. Here, Justin, that wretched agent is looking for you. You know, the one who looks dehydrated all the time?"

"Lucy?"

"That's the one."

Justin smiled at Brian. "In case I don't see you again, thanks for coming. And I'll be sure to give your regards to Deb next time I speak to her." With that, he went in search of Lucy.

Jerome looked at Brian. "That Debbie is quite strange. She's eccentric. I like her. But she really needs a better wig. I think she could even look sophisticated, with better hair."

" _You've_ met Debbie?" Brian was downright incredulous now. Maybe it was Debbie that he should be throttling.

"Hmmm. When we went down to Pittsburgh last summer. Ah. I forgot. You didn't know, did you?"

"Jerome. Good evening."

Brian turned to find a tall, well-built man speaking to Jerome. He looked to be about forty, or at the very best in his late thirties. He had light brown hair, which he wore close, and a well-maintained goatee. His clothes screamed money and style. Brian saw distinct possibilities for the evening.

"Well, hello Old Man." Jerome did not look particularly pleased.

"I have a name, Jerome."

"Yes, but you're also old. Instead of remembering your name, I can store more useful information in my brain and refer to you by a generic description. Serves the same purpose."

The man sighed, and Brian almost felt sorry for him. Jerome certainly was a handful.

"Where's Justin?"

"Somewhere about, I'm not sure where. But how remiss of me. Introductions introductions!"

Brian saw the other man's face tighten almost imperceptibly at the sight of Brian, even before Jerome said his name.

"Brian, this is Howard Spencer. Howard – there, I used your name – this is Brian. Kinney. One of Justin's…ah…friends from Pittsburgh. Wasn't it nice of him to come _all_ this way to show his support?"

Howard smiled stiffly and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Brian."

"Likewise." Brian gave Howard a practiced smile. Whatever the other man was, he certainly didn't seem pleased to meet Brian at all.

 

* * *

 

Brian didn't know why, but he decided to hang around at the gallery. Howard Spencer, whoever he was, made an effort to be friendly to Brian, whatever his initial reaction had been. Brian wondered who the man was, and what his connection to Justin was. He was pretty sure that the man Jerome had referred to as 'sugar daddy' was Howard.

When Howard found out that Brian was in Toronto because of Vanguard and not Justin's show, he shot daggers at Jerome, who looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.

"Will you be in Toronto for long, Brian?"

"About a month. But I'll probably be traveling here frequently after that. I might even be based here permanently."

"I see. I hope you're enjoying Toronto so far; is it your first time here?"

"As a matter of fact, yes it is. I'm –"

"I'm sorry; will you excuse me?"

Brian watched as Howard suddenly made a beeline towards Justin; who had materialized several feet away. When Howard kissed Justin – when Justin let him – Brian felt his insides turn. It might have been 5 years, but the possessiveness Brian had always felt when it came to Justin started bubbling to the surface. He found it difficult to tear his eyes away from Justin – and Howard. But he somehow managed.

"So. Were those photographs at the shop your work, Jerome?"

"Yup. He paints, I shoot. I design the shirts, he paints them. I paint too, but it's more his forte than mine. We both come up with the designs for the other items, though we don't make them ourselves. Well, not all of them anyway. Some of the stuff – like the plates and all - are collaborations between Justin and my mom. She's an artist as well."

"Oh…I liked your work, though I didn't get a chance to look at it too much."

"Of course you didn't. You were too busy staring at yourself on canvas."

Brian looked at Jerome. He always thought of himself as being blunt, but Jerome surpassed him by miles. "It _was_ somewhat unexpected. How long have you two been running the shop?"

"Almost a year. But we were making the same stuff and selling them before that …just sold them to different shops and to my mom's clients. We finally figured that it was high time we started making some money for ourselves, instead of other people."

"Is that how you and Justin met? Through your mother?"

"Nope. We worked together."

Brian's eyes went to Justin, who seemed to be having a rather uncomfortable conversation with Howard. Jerome was watching the same scene, and Brian didn't miss the glint in his eye.

"How about we go join them, Brian?"

Jerome was off, and after a second's thought, Brian followed him, even though he hadn't gotten all the answers he wanted.

"So, what did Lucy say? Did you sell anything?"

Justin smiled a regular, sunshine smile at Jerome. "Yes! I sold everything! Can you believe it? That shirt totally paid off."

"You did well, Sunshine."

Jerome raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Howard frowned.

Justin smiled. "Thanks Brian. Not exactly the GLC, but it'll do."

A dull buzzing started growing louder, and Howard pulled out his phone and frowned at it. "Excuse me for a minute." He kissed Justin lightly on his forehead before leaving.

"That's quite an age gap there…" Brian knew it was the wrong thing to say even before he said it, but he just couldn't help himself.

Justin sighed. "You really haven't changed, have you? Believe it or not Brian, some men are actually happy to have the picture of youth standing by their side. Age, and age gaps, is not as big a deal to most people as it was for you."

"Yes, I'm sure your boyfriend has absolutely no problem with having a man twenty years his junior beside him. What a paragon of virtue he must be," Brian drawled.

"For your information, not everyone -" Justin started, but Jerome cut him off.

"Howard isn't Justin's boyfriend." Jerome earned a glare for his trouble.

Brian was surprised. Howard had certainly acted otherwise. "Oh?"

Justin's sigh was accompanied with an eye roll. " _Oh_. Howard and I are good friends...with benefits, you could say."

"Friends with benefits? You?" The night was full of surprises it seemed. "I distinctly remember you as having some very romantic notions about relationships and -"

Justin's laugh interrupted Brian. "First off, I don't think anything in your memory regarding me is distinct, after all these years. Second of all, the person you remember was a seventeen year old kid who was obsessed with all things Brian Kinney, and had his head stuffed with all kinds of crazy romantic ideas. I've grown up. Certainly not obsessed with you anymore - or anybody else, for that matter. I know what I want, and friends with benefits suits me just fine." Justin turned to Jerome, signalling an end to that particular topic.

"Jerome, Howard wants to take us out for dinner. You game? We can leave around nine thirty."

"Sure, why not? I was kinda expecting it. I have to call Eddie now, but I'll be free after that." Then to Brian's immense surprise, Jerome spoke to Justin in fluent French, and then waved at him before leaving. Clearly words that weren't meant for Brian's ears.

"He's French?"

"His dad's from Montréal. His mom's from Haiti."

"And when did you learn French?"

"I _always_ knew French…I'm cultured like that." Justin smiled impishly. "I guess private school was good for something…being around Jerome really helped me improve though."

Brian was amazed by how different Justin was, and yet, how he still seemed like the seventeen year old kid Brian had known.

"Toronto is a long way from home Sunshine…how'd you end up here?"

"Brian, Toronto _is_ my home now."

He should have expected it, but Brian was still surprised to hear that. "Justin, your friends, your family…everyone's in Pittsburgh."

Justin laughed. "Are you crazy? I _never_ had any friends in Pittsburgh…just Daphne. And my family hates me. Well, not Mom…but…I never had anything in Pittsburgh. I have a life here."

Brian couldn't quite argue with that. "So, you didn't tell me, how did you –"

"Justin."

Howard interrupted them, much to Brian's annoyance. I suppose dinner at nine thirty is just not enough, he thought.

"Justin, there's someone here I'd like you to meet. Could you excuse us Brian?"

I'll be damned before I show how much he's getting to me, Brian thought. He shrugged, and smiled leisurely.

"Go on right ahead. I have to be going anyway. Pleasure meeting you, Howard. I'll see _you_ later, Sunshine." He leaned in, kissing a very surprised Justin just enough to taste the Merlot.

Brian didn't bother looking at Howard's face, but he could feel the other man's eyes burning into him as he walked out.


	3. Chapter 3

"Did you like Toronto?" Ben asked him.

Brian glanced at Michael's partner and mumbled incoherently. Truth be told, he was still fuming. His confrontation with Debbie about Justin hadn't gone the way he had imagined. In fact, it hadn't gone anywhere near what he had pictured. Apparently, not just Debbie, but Lindsay and Melanie had also been in constant contact with Justin for the last five years.

And they all had the same excuse – Justin made them promise that they'd tell Brian anything and everything, _only_ if Brian asked them about Justin first. Brian hadn't asked, so none of them told.

Which was absurd, really, whichever way one looked at it, but there was no convincing Debbie and Co. of it. To Michael's credit, he hadn't been in touch with Justin himself, and said that he had assumed Brian would have asked Debbie about Justin, had he been interested.

"You're not upset about no one telling you about Dustin, are you?"

Brian sighed. " _Justin._ Not Dustin. _Justin_ "

Ben laughed lightly. "I can't believe that all this time, I had gotten his name wrong."

Brian chose not to comment, and took a sip from his scotch instead. The crowd at _Mac's_ was thinning.

"You _are_ upset," Ben stated matter-of-factly. The man was relentless.

Brian sighed. There was just no getting away from it. "I'm not upset, Ben. I'm irritated. It boggles my mind that no one thought I might have wanted to know that Justin was alive and well, and not dead in some gutter somewhere. No one would have even known him, if not for me. Have you met him?"

"No, if I had, I'd have gotten his name right. I just knew _of_ him, because Deb mentioned him on and off, and Michael explained who he was…and the girls…"

"Fucking Mikey."

"Michael didn't think you cared...or that it was important. You never asked, or said anything…I really thought that he was friend of Mel and Lindz and Debbie's that you had slept with at some point…none of us really discussed him…at least, no one discussed him with me, and not with Michael, as far as I know."

"I _don't_ care." He didn't. It was just the principle of it, that was all.

"Brian, why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow night? The girls will be there, and Deb and –"

Brian sighed. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"No thanks to what?" Michael asked, as he came back from the men's room.

"I was just telling Brian that he should come over for dinner tomorrow."

"Yeah, why not Brian?"

"I have somewhere else to be."

"What, the Feldman bar mitzvah? They got busted while you were gone."

"What the _fuck?_ Is nothing sacred anymore? _Goddamnit._ "

_Woody's_ had banned him, _Babylon_ was closed until its legal woes were over, _Meathook_ was gone, _Adonis_ had turned straight, the bathhouse was closed for violations…and now the back of a fucking truck was gone too.

"Another one bites the dust," Ben said humourlessly.

"We have… _Mac's_."

"Don't be stupid, Mikey. This is a straight bar, with a designated 'Queer Night' once a month. It may be good enough for you, but certainly not for me."

"Don't snap at me, I wasn't the one who got Stockwell elected. It's your own fault that Liberty Avenue is practically dead."

"Here we go again, the lets-blame-Brian game, round six million and twelve." Brian was sick to death of having this same old tired argument with almost everyone he knew. That was the primary reason he had stopped hanging out with the gang. "I worked on Stockwell's campaign. Big fucking deal. I'm one person. I didn't elect him, the _voters_ did. You know what voters are, don't you Michael? The voting public? The people who buy your comics, your former friends at the Big Q..."

"Who the hell else do you want us to blame?"

"Michael, let it go." Ben's voice had a hint of resignation.

"He started it."

"Right, blame me _again_. This is so typical of you."

"I'm not the only one who thinks this all your fault. You masterminded his campaign; people voted for Stockwell because of _your_ work. Now he's shutting us down one by one. Kids can take E at any straight club, but _Babylon_ gets shut down on indecency charges? There are cops everywhere. Why do you think they won't let you in to _Woody's_ anymore?"

"Oh get off it Michael. They let me inside _Woody's_ ," Brian said flippantly.

"Yeah, they just don't serve you anymore. As good as banning you. They're giving you a dose of your own medicine until the next election."

"Fuck them. I don't need _Woody's_ ," Brian said. Truth was, he missed going to _Woody's_. He missed being able to walk down the street without bumping into a cop. He missed the freedom all of them used to have.

And each time this topic came up, it made him angry.

_Stockwell_ made him angry. They had had a deal, and Stockwell reneged. Fucking asshole. There were no powerful clients, no moving up, no higher profile…there was nothing but a homophobic, backstabbing, asshole as mayor.

That he had helped elect.

"You don't need a goddamn thing, and you ruined Liberty Avenue for all of us!"

"Fuck you, Michael."

"Can we please move on from this topic? Brian was about to tell me about him meeting Justin in Toronto. You never corrected me; all this time I was calling him Dustin."

Ben's entreaty had some effect on Michael.

"We never talked about him often enough to correct you. How's Justin doing? Ma said that you went to his art show…? Was it good?"

"It was interesting. Thanks for letting me know that he was alive, by the way."

"If you had asked, I would have told you. Those were my instructions."

"Since when do you take instructions from Justin?" Brian barked.

"I take instructions from _Ma_. How the hell was I supposed to know that you cared?"

"I DON'T CARE." Jesus. How many times was he supposed to repeat the same thing? "Why the fuck _would_ I care about Justin?"

"If you don't care, why get all antsy about it? I'm tired. I'm going home. Ben?"

"I'll get the cheque and catch up with you."

"You don't need to stay here on my account. I'm leaving anyway. And the drinks are on me," Brian said. Honestly, there was no point hanging around.

Michael had already left.

"Brian, you're still invited for dinner; I hope you come."

"What the fuck for? A repeat of this, ad nauseam?"

"Go easy on Michael. All these restrictions are tough."

"You think it's fucking easy for me?" Brian snapped. "You think it's easy, getting stabbed in the back by fucking Stockwell, being stuck here in Pittsburgh, with everyone sniggering behind my back? Michael's supposed to be my friend. Some fucking friend."

"Brian, none of us are sniggering behind your back. And you're not stuck in Pittsburgh – Vance is sending you to Toronto. You'll be heading that unit full-time. Doubtless he gave you this promotion and responsibility in no small part because of how professionally you handled the Stockwell thing. You've come out of this pretty much unharmed, comparatively speaking. None of us have been so lucky. Ted lost _everything._ It's been really hard for him, starting over. And Emmett too. Those two would probably still be together, if not for the raid."

Brian did not want to be listening to any of this, but Ben just continued.

"And us. We lost Hunter. We're still hurting."

"You didn't lose him because of _me_."

"We lost him because two gay men were not deemed a safe environment for him to live in. That comes directly from Stockwell's policies, and you know it. I'm not blaming you Brian, but we're still hurting. We always will."

"Michael blames me."

Ben sighed. "Yes, yes he does. He's just trying to cope, that's all. Deep down, he knows it wasn't you. He needs time to heal. Listen, I have to go now. But the dinner invitation is still open. I think it'll be good if you dropped by."

Brian wasn't supposed to go back to Toronto for another two weeks, but it looked like he was going to have to change his plans. Two more weeks in Pittsburgh was two weeks too long.


	4. Chapter 4

Justin glanced at his wristwatch, which he had placed on the bedside table the night before. It was already ten in the morning. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Want me to make you some breakfast?"

Justin then turned on his side, expecting to see Howard there. When he saw the bed was empty apart from himself, he sat up, and saw Howard standing next to the closet doors.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have squash?" He would have never have spent the night at Howard's if he had known that Howard was going to be around in the morning. Things had been reasonably awkward between them, and he wanted to maintain boundaries.

"I rescheduled with Jim."

"Howard…please don't tell me you did that because of me."

"I did it for me."

"Really?" Justin frowned.

"Really. It's been a while since you spent some time here, Jus. I'm treating myself."

"Hahahahaha, you're funny." Justin swung his legs off the side of the bed. It was time he woke up anyway. "I'm going to shower and get dressed. I have so much to do, and Cheryl's going to be here in a few days…Christ…I need something to show her. We can have some breakfast at _Over Easy_ , if you want to." The menu wasn't too pricey, and in any event, he knew that Howard would insist on paying. This way, everyone would be happy.

"You just had a show, what's Cheryl expecting to see?"

"The show was my personal thing…we need to show her the plans for summer and autumn, and get her okay. Last year sucked; I never want to be stocked out, _ever_ again." Just thinking about the stock out situation the previous year gave Justin nightmares.

"You and Jerome are the ones working the store; why do you need Cheryl's approval? Seems to me a very inconvenient way of running a business."

"Howard, Cheryl's the equity partner. It's her money. She needs to know how we're spending it. That was the deal. You know how a partnership works better than I do, Howard. We all have to stick to the terms."

"And what? She doesn't trust her own son?"

Justin sighed. They had this conversation every two months, but Howard was perversely obtuse on the subject. "Jerome is her son, when they're at home. Hell, I'm practically her son. But business is business. And honestly, Jerome and I are learning on the job. Our expertise isn't money and orders and stocks and sales and shit. It's kinda good that she's so professional, because she makes us do the hard stuff."

Howard threw a towel at him, before he sat down on one of the armchairs that he had in his bedroom. "Jus, my offer still stands. I will give you the money – loan it, if you prefer. Hire a proper shop manager who has the experience to handle that side of the business, and you'll have more time to do what you're _supposed_ to be doing. Or I'll give you enough money to buy Cheryl out, and you can run the store on your own terms."

"La la la la la la la la…I'm not listening…" Justin sang, picking up his clothes.

"Justin…"

"Howard. I am. NOT. Taking your money. Case closed. I really don't want us to keep discussing this every other week."

"Every other week? I thought you were avoiding me. Is this the reason?"

"I'm not avoiding you, Howard…I'm just…" Oh brother, Justin thought. His weekend was getting off to a _great_ start. "I explained this to you. I think we need a break from each other."

"You mean _you_ want a break from _me_."

" _No._ I like you, and I like spending time with you. I think _you_ need a break from _me,_ " Justin said. He threw the towel over his shoulder and balled up his clothes, and then went and sat at Howard's feet. "Howard, I've always told you, I don't want a relationship with you. Right now, I don't want a relationship with anyone. But you're becoming too serious about me; you're offering me money, you wanted me to move in…if you were to find some other guy you wanted to be with, in a proper relationship, I'd miss you, but I'd be happy for you. I don't want to end up hurting you, Howard. And if we keep seeing each other as often as we used to, I think you're going to end up getting hurt, no matter how much I try not to."

"Justin, I'm a grown man. I can handle myself. I know you, and what you want and don't want. I want to keep seeing you. I offer you things to make life easier for you; you can always say no, like you often do." They both chuckled lightly at that. Howard continued. "But, as I said, I'm an adult, and I can decide for myself how to protect my feelings. I don't need – I don't _want_ – you staying away from me because you think you're helping me."

"In that case, we'll continue as we are: you do what you think is best, and I'll do what I think is best, okay? So, _Over Easy_ is fine with you?" Justin asked, sighing.

"Of course," Howard said, smiling.

Justin stood up, and kissed Howard lightly before turning around to head for the shower. This was the best he could mollify the man for now.

"Any news on when Brian is coming back to Toronto?"

"Don't know, don't care."

"Justin, the man left a tremendous impact on you. I don't think blocking it out –"

"I'm not blocking anything out. I _really_ don't care. Brian Kinney left a tremendously negative _impression_ on me. He showed me how much I could be disrespected, how uncaring a human being could be, how callous, how the only person I could depend on was me…the only good he ever did was show me how to fuck like a man."

"That doesn't sound to me like a person who doesn't care. That sounds to me like a person who is still very much hurt, and very much angry," Howard said gently.

Justin shook his head. "I let all that go when I did the Loft painting. You know, that was the last time. The last time I painted him, drew him…the absolute last. If I bump into him, I'll be friendly and courteous. I guess I owe it to him, since he _did_ take me in, even if he kicked me out soon after. I owe it to Debbie and Mel & Lindz to be nice to him. I'm not blocking anything out, Howard. I'm not angry anymore, and I'm not hurt. I've just moved past it all. I have a life now, and better things to think about. Like having a shower and breakfast and doing sales forecasts".

 

* * *

 

"Is your hand better?"

"Jerome, don't change the subject. We were talking about Eddie," Justin said, between bites of gelato. The weather was still cold, but it was never, ever too cold for gelato. It was the Tuesday afternoon, but the street was busy with all kinds of people, from students to executives playing hooky to dog walkers and elderly couples.

"What's to discuss? I'd much rather talk about the men in your life. Eesh, we didn't pick anything up for Nicole. We better finish eating these before we get to the store."

Justin nodded. "Yes, and Gino will be there soon as well. Let's walk slower."

Nicole and Gino were their sales associates who worked at the store, both part-timers. And there was Megan, who worked full-time, but only on the weekends. Justin and Jerome tried to treat them well, but it wasn't within either of their budgets to buy then food constantly.

They had each eaten at the store, but decided to step outside to enjoy the sun and have some dessert. Winter was coming to an end, but there was still snow left over, though the sun had come out today and was melting everything in sight.

Justin loved Toronto in the winter. He loved bundling up and the snow everywhere. Then again, he also loved Toronto in the summer, so either way, he was almost always happy with the weather. Their store was on Queen Street West, an area full of eclectic 'artsy' shops, galleries and high-end retail stores, as well as innumerable restaurants and pubs. Considering the products they sold, it was the perfect area for the store, though the high rent meant that he and Jerome were hardly making a decent profit yet.

Jerome continued his chatter, as he slowed his pace. "I'm just being a considerate friend; I know your hand was cramping up earlier. Mom's not expecting actual products from you, you know. Just concrete ideas. She knows you just had a show."

"I know...still...I want to be able to show something. It's not like she's going to make anything from what I sold at the gallery."

"It's still good PR for us. Everyone who bought your work will come to the store to see what else you have. And before I forget, _Sweet as Pie_ got back to me. They're okay with displaying my photos as 'for sale' pieces."

"Jerome, that's awesome! Slowly but surely, we _are_ moving up in the world. We have to do something to celebrate."

Jerome grinned. "Aaaaah, I LOVE celebrations."

"And while we're updating each other, I'm starting physio again next week. Twice a week with Gilles. For the next six weeks," Justin said. "Sucky, I know, but…I suppose it has to be done."

"Well, I think it's an excellent idea. Did he say anything?"

"Same shit about not exerting my arm too much. I told him that when I'm rich and famous and calling the shots, I'd stop. Till then, while I'm at the mercy of agents to schedule shows, and can't charge a premium at the store, he'll just have to get used to seeing me every three months."

"Nice. Antagonizing your healthcare workers is _always_ a good idea," Jerome commented sardonically. "At least it helps. You should have gone when the pain started, fool."

"Now you sound like Howard," Justin groused. He knew that soon, he would have to figure out a way to make his art, the store, and his injury and the ensuing physio all work in tandem. However, it was a topic he was studiously avoiding, amongst other reasons because but he hadn't yet figured out how to. He probably never would, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. This injury was one way of keeping in mind the important things in life. To always keep at it.

"Speaking of Howard..."

"Oh no you don't. Jerome, I like Eddie, you know that, but the man is _married_. He has two kids. This is not going to end well for anyone...it's been almost a year now...you guys are well past the point of this being just some fling. Isn't it high time to bail?"

"I really like him," Jerome stated simply.

" _Jerome!_ If he was going to pick you, he'd have done so by now. It...you're going to get hurt."

"He's the married one - it's _his_ problem, not mine. It's not like I want a ring, or to move in, or whatever. I'm happy where things are right now. I don't want anymore. Anyway, I'm free to see anybody I want."

"But you're _not_ seeing anyone. Anyone else, that is."

"There was that dude from last Thursday."

"A random fuck is not the same as seeing someone! Jerome, you're going to get hurt and the kids are going to get hurt."

"He's way better with them now than he ever was, and that's because he's finally happy."

"Whatever. He's completely using you, and you're going to get hurt badly, sooner than later. I reserve the right to say 'I told you so'. On this one, Howard is bang on."

"How is this any different to you and Howard?" Jerome countered.

"Huh? Because Howard isn't married? I'm not married?"

"Because." Jerome paused, incredibly, to admire a t-shirt that was on display. "Isn't that t-shirt cool? You should come back later and try it on. I think it'll suit you better than me. Where was I?"

Justin rolled his eyes. "You. Eddie. Me. Howard. NOT being married."

"Right. Because you're telling me that Eddie's going to hurt me so I should leave him, but you're still seeing Howard. I mean, c'mon. He's getting hurt as we speak. I'll take your advice to heart when you finally put Howard out of his misery. One way or another."

"That's not fair."

"Why? It's true."

"I'm not lying to Howard. I never have. He's not lying to me. And we're not hurting some random third person. Besides, Howard knew this was never going to be anything more than two friends who have sex. He doesn't want to stop seeing me, and I...he's a friend. I like hanging out with him."

"Fine then. Stop fucking him. Or getting fucked by him. It's not like you don't have other - better - options."

Justin gave Jerome a pointed look. "I tried. He _is_ hot. And, why should I stop enjoying myself? I've been nothing but honest, and Howard seems to prefer this to being just a friend."

It was true. He _had_ tried. He wasn't to blame if Howard got hurt; Justin had tried to fix things as best he could, but Howard wasn't interested in changing the status quo, unless it was to become even more 'serious'.

"That is such unadulterated bullshit," Jerome declared.

Justin rolled his eyes. "You would say that."

"It's true. If you were to swallow a set of Scrabble tiles, shit some out and then make a sentence out of those letters, it would make more sense than the nonsense you spew out about Howard. Fact is, you like sex. You want to have sex regularly. You're a carnal whore. But you're a romantic at heart and casual, mindless fucks doesn't cut it for you, unless it's just to spice things up. So you keep Howard around like your lapdog, until you find the real deal. And all the while, you pretend that you're not searching for that missing person."

"That is NOT true! Jerome, take that back! I don't have any such bullshit hang ups. Besides which, I'm not a romantic." Justin wasn't at all comfortable with Jerome's reasoning. He knew that Jerome was wrong, and yet, it still made Justin very uncomfortable.

Suddenly, Justin noticed that he was walking alone, and Jerome had paused in front of a Starbucks.

Jerome looked at his wrist watch, and then reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone. "Hello? Nicole?...yeah, just checking if Gino is in yet…He is? Perfect, because Justin and I are held up and will be awhile…if you need anything, just call either of our phones, we're just a few blocks away…ok, later, bye."

Justin frowned. "Why are we held up?"

Jerome looked at him with a devilish smile. "Look, a Starbucks."

Justin was utterly confused. "So? We don't buy anything from Starbucks…we hate this place…what is wrong with you?"

"True, non? But…they have a bathroom."

"Jerome, _we_ have a bathroom. It's three blocks away. What are you, five?"

"Um…I think we should see what they have inside. Don't you think our hatred towards Starbucks needs to be updated? What if they've introduced some random new size in Italian that costs ten bucks, and we've missed it? Or a tea-flavoured coffee, or some other mind-bogglingly insipid shit that they're known for?"

" _What?_ "

Jerome stepped away to peek inside the Starbucks, and then turned to Justin with a smile. "I've changed my mind. I don't think we need to go in there."

Justin shook his head. "You are, without doubt, the weirdest human being I know."

"Uh-huh. Here, isn't that Coffee Guy?"

"Who?" Justin wondered, not for the first time in their friendship, whether it was possible to have Jerome committed.

"Your Brian. Isn't that him, walking out of Starbucks?"

To say that Justin was surprised would have been an understatement. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what the best course of action was. He looked left and right, wondering which way Brian would go, so they could take the opposite direction. "Jerome, you dick, you're so going to pay…and he is not _my_ Brian."

Jerome smiled sweetly. "Of course he isn't. It was merely a way to identify him."

"Jerome, we have a business to run. Can we please go?"

"Justin?"

_Fuck._

"Coffee Guy. Fancy bumping into you here." Jerome turned to look at Justin, face guileless. "Toronto can be a really small city sometimes."

Justin plastered a smile on his face. "Indeed. Hello again, Brian."


	5. Chapter 5

"What brings you to this neck of the woods…again?" Justin was already wondering how short they could keep this conversation, and still manage to maintain the appearance of politeness.

"I was looking at some apartments here."

"Where? This neighbourhood has more townhouses than anything else," Jerome asked Brian quizzically.

Brian waved his arm vaguely to the right of Jerome. "One at the…Chocolate…no…yes, one at the Chocolate Factory, and another one at the Candy Factory Lofts."

Justin raised his eyebrows. Jerome whistled.

"Wow…those are some of the most expensive condos in the city…are you going to take either?" Jerome was clearly very impressed.

Brian shrugged. "Most likely, yes. The one at the Candy Factory."

"You have to invite me in if you do! Justin, tell him to invite us – at least invite me – once he takes the place! Did you know that building is from the '30s? They've used a lot of the original beams, _so_ many windows, 12 foot ceilings…hallways wide enough to ride a bicycle in…I cook _really_ well. That's a hint. Please invite me. I'd love to do a shoot there."

"Jerome, I'm sure his agent gave him the full history of the building." Justin was instinctively uncomfortable with Brian living so close to the shop. "Are you sure you want to take it? It's not that close to downtown, and traffic is a bitch."

"Are you out of your mind?" Jerome squeaked. "He's going to be staying at the Candy Factory! Only an idiot would pass that up."

Justin rolled his eyes. "For _half_ the rent, he could get a fancy schmancy condo right downtown. Heart of the city. Something more his style."

Now it was Brian's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You assume that you know my style, Sunshine. The place I saw was _very_ much my style."

Brian was probably going to take the place just to spite him, Justin thought. "Of course I don't know your taste; I'm extrapolating from when I _used_ to know you. Besides, most single, high-flying executives prefer being closer to downtown. This neighbourhood is all arty, bohemian hipsters…" Justin looked Brian up and down. "And you don't look arty, bohemian or anything resembling a hipster. Besides, the Village - the gay village - is downtown. You'll spend thirty minutes getting to your clubs."

"Pffft. There are clubs here aplenty."

"Not gay clubs," Justin said.

"Well, if he can afford that rent, he can afford cabs. Or drive. Or use drivers. Or whatever it is that rich people use," Jerome pointed out.

"Good feedback from your show?" Brian asked both of them, but the question was really directed at Justin.

Justin shrugged. "Good enough. I sold stuff…so…I think it went okay."

"He's being modest. It was better than okay. It was _so_ much better than okay that we're going to celebrate this evening. If you promise to let me do some shoots at your new place, I'll invite you."

Justin rolled his eyes. This was all he needed. Brian Kinney joining his limited circle of friends. But he knew he had to be polite, and moreover, he owed Brian a little more than $500, seeing as how it was through Brian that he met Debbie, Lindsay and Melanie.

"We're meeting at _Terroni's_ for dinner at 7.30, and then we're going to move to _Woody's_. _Terroni's_ is on Adelaide Street West. You can look up the exact address."

" _Woodys?"_ Brian asked, clearly confused.

Justin smiled a real smile for the first time since he had run into Brian. "The original _Woody's_. The Pittsburgh one was started by one of the founders of this one…I heard it isn't the same there anymore, at any rate."

Brian shrugged, looking weary all of a sudden.

Justin had heard all about Mayor Stockwell from Debbie and the girls. He had also heard about Brian's role in the whole mess. He wanted to hate on Brian as well, but as a mostly impartial third party, Justin figured that it wasn't all Brian's fault. Brian may have backed the wrong horse, but he didn't hold a gun to the head of Pittsburgh voters.

"You can compare the original to the newer version and judge which is better. Shall we head back?" Justin had done his polite duty; there was no need to hang around yapping with Brian any more than necessary.

 

* * *

 

The problem with Jerome was that he never did what you wanted him to do. Thus, he had invited Brian back to the store instead of parting company. Brian, annoying creature that he was, had said okay. Justin looked over to them irritably. Brian and Jerome were in a deep discussion in front of Jerome's photographs that were on display.

"Justin, would it be okay if I took next Wednesday and Thursday morning off? I have an exam Thursday morning and have to study. I can be in by 3.30 afterwards," Lily asked him.

"Sure. No worries. Just make sure to put it in the schedule by Saturday."

"What are you studying?" Brian asked Lily. Justin wondered with mild curiosity why Brian was feigning interest in a person that he couldn't even sleep with.

"I'm a Communications major."

"Interesting. Where?"

"U of T."

"Aaaah. I saw the campus downtown. Is that where you went?" Brian turned to Justin.

"Went for what?" Justin asked, frowning. Jerome watched on, curiously.

"To play football." Brian rolled his eyes. "University, obviously."

"Oh. I didn't go anywhere."

Brian stared and Justin in surprise.

Surprise and…disappointment? Justin felt his defenses rise, seeing the expression on Brian's face.

Brian walked over to the counter where Justin was at. "You were one of the brightest people in your class. And you didn't bother going to university? You didn't even finish high school, did you?"

"What's it to you? You didn't give a rat's ass then, so why the sudden interest in my education now? As if every person you know has a fancy degree from somewhere. Big fucking deal. I had better things to do with my time than sit in a classroom all day."

"I bet you did. What a waste of intelligence."

Justin narrowed his eyes. "You sound _exactly_ like my mom. Never knew the two of you had so much in common. At least I've achieved something." He waved his arms about, gesturing at the store. "Something I can call my own. At least I'm doing what _I_ want to do, not making money for some dick of a man, or wasting four years of my life getting a degree that I'm never going to use." Justin shook his head. "You're still the same asshole that I left back in Pittsburgh, aren't you? Gino, wanna help me unpack some new stock?"

Justin brushed past Brian, and walked into the back. He knew that Gino would follow. Jerome was the one who invited Brian here, so _he_ could deal with Brian. Justin had no desire to speak with either of them.

People who thought they knew what was best for him annoyed the crap out of him. Yes, going to university would have been simply marvelous. But sometimes, life didn't give you marvelous opportunities. Life gave you sucky, difficult, mind-bogglingly awful opportunities, and you had to make the best of what you got.

Justin shook his head. Maybe running off to New York had been a mistake, but staying in Pittsburgh hadn't been a choice, either. His father had hated him, had practically kicked him out; Brian had _in fact_ kicked him out, and there was his wishy-washy mom. Well, wishy-washy at that time. Obviously, he had had to figure out a way to be on his own feet. So, maybe that meant he moved to Toronto. Maybe that meant he had to give up any dreams of higher education.

So fucking what? At least he had his own business. He had had a show. Slowly but surely, he was moving forward.

Most importantly, he had at least learnt to survive.


	6. Chapter 6

Justin sipped his wine, looking around. He wanted a scotch, but figured that it might be rude to get a new drink so soon. Howard _had_ ordered rather expensive wine. It would be an insult to waste it, especially considering that they were at _Terroni's_ , where everything was twice as expensive as it should be. Including the water.

"Are you okay?" Jerome asked him quietly, in French.

Justin smiled and nodded. He was still a bit miffed about being put down by Brian, but it was his own issue to deal with.

"You're not mad at me?" Jerome continued.

"I'm _always_ mad at you for doing stupid things, and dragging stupid people into our lives. But I'll forgive you," he responded, also in French. Justin kissed Jerome on the cheek. It was true. He _was_ always getting mad at Jerome, and he was always unable to _stay_ mad at him.

Howard smiled tightly at him. Justin returned the smile, and shrugged. Howard was never comfortable when they spoke French while in a group setting, and Justin acknowledged that it was extremely rude. To be fair, they didn't do it often. In any event, Justin figured that it was only a tad ruder than whispering, or constantly checking your phone. And Howard should really know that Jerome only did it as often as he did, for the express purpose of annoying him.

Celebration though this was, it was turning into an uncomfortable double 'date', with Eddie and Jerome, and himself and Howard. That was one of the reasons he spoke more to Jerome than anyone else; he didn't want anyone at the table to misunderstand.

The problem with being anti-social, Justin decided, was that your social circle sometimes became very uncomfortable. Like now. When nobody liked each other. Justin knew that he should have invited more people, but it had felt too much like bragging. Oh well. He was bound to run into more people at _Woody's_.

 

* * *

 

Brian had considered alternate plans. He was bound to find someone in Toronto willing to suck his dick. This was not Pittsburgh, after all. He was bound to enjoy himself at any number of gay clubs here, even if he were to turn up alone. Brian was certain of that.

However.

He had felt bad.

He was loathe to admit that, even to himself, but that was the truth. He didn't know the nitty gritty of Justin's life in the past five years, but it could not have been easy. Running away, getting your shit together somehow, could not have _possibly_ been easy. Given Justin's queen-out earlier in the day, he obviously thought that Brian was disappointed in him. Truth was, he had been disappointed _for_ Justin. The boy had had such potential. Personally, Brian had always thought that Justin was smarter than the whole lot of them.

And here he was, not having even completed high school.

And here _Brian_ was, several hours later, actually feeling bad. This was precisely the kind of judgmental bullshit heaped upon him back in Pittsburgh because of Stockwell. He knew how angry it made him, and how unfair it was. And, though he was still mad at Justin for not speaking to him for five fucking years, Justin's lack of formal education may not have been the right subject to rag him on.

Ergo, he had come to the conclusion that, maybe, he needed to cut Justin some slack.

On top of that, Brian was sure that Justin's pseudo older boyfriend was going to be there. He just felt like irking that man.

For no reason.

No reason whatsoever.

It was this reasoning that lead to Brian turning up at _Terroni's_ , with the biggest bouquet of flowers and the most expensive champagne he could get his hands on.

There were ways to say sorry, without actually saying sorry.

 

* * *

 

"Sunshine! Look at you, all spiffy and hot."

The room suddenly came alive, with Brian's unexpected entrance.

"You came," Justin said, more than a little surprised.

"Of course. We're celebrating your achievement. I wouldn't dream of missing it." Brian's words were somewhat flippant, but there was sincerity in his eyes that Justin clearly picked up on. "Beautiful flowers for the beautiful artist, and alcohol for the celebration."

With a flourish, Brian presented the flowers to Justin. Seeing the bottle of champagne, the waiter rushed to bring the appropriate stemware.

Justin, who had started to smile, burst out laughing. "Brian, you're incorrigible. Thank you."

Brian smiled. It was good to have a moment of genuineness with Justin. He hugged the blonde. "You've done well, Justin."

The waiter had brought an extra chair, and Brian motioned it to be placed between Justin and Jerome. He had no desire to be stuck talking to either of the other two men at the table.

"Brian, this is Eddie. Eddie, Brian is an old friend of Justin's. Aaand, you've already met Howard. Listen, we already ordered food, because how were we to know that you were going to turn up? Give me your phone, I'll give you my number, and next time, you'll know to let someone else know. Oh, and here's the menu. Order food!" Unfazed, Jerome chattered away, and Brian found himself handing his phone over to Jerome in spite of himself.

"It's not just me, he's kind of weird, right?" Brian asked.

Howard rolled his eyes. "To put it mildly."

Brian saw Justin give Howard a look, and the man seemed to soften. He also shifted his attention away from Jerome entirely, and focused on Brian.

"So, Brian, how are you finding Toronto? Have you finalised on a place? Because if you haven't, I have an excellent agent that I can recommend."

"Actually, I just signed the lease on a loft space in…"

"Queen West," Justin supplied. "The Candy Factory Lofts. It _is_ the one you mentioned earlier, right?"

Brian nodded.

"That's an excellent building," Howard said.

Brian didn't particularly want to, but he supposed that he should speak to Howard, especially since the man was being friendly. "Do you live in that neighbourhood?"

"No, no, I have a condo downtown, but my home is in Richmond Hill, north of Toronto."

"It's where all the pretentious, uber-rich people live," Jerome whispered in Brian's ear, slightly startling him.

Brian made a mental note to find out the reason for the hostility between Jerome and Howard.

 

* * *

 

"This _Woody's_ has a dance floor," Justin told Brian. "What do you think?" He told himself that _Woody's_ certainly did not need Brian's seal of approval, but it was nice to know what the other man thought.

"It's a small dance floor. And it's not very busy."

"It's a Tuesday night, what did you expect? Do you like it?" Justin persisted.

"I do. Another drink?" Brian motioned to the bartender.

The evening had gone off quite well, Justin thought. A few more people had joined them at _Woody's_ (Jerome was busy dancing with almost all of them), and Justin was enjoying himself. He looked around, making a mental note of where everyone from their party was. Howard and Eddie were speaking to someone; Justin had no idea who the third man was, but assumed that it was one of their acquaintances. Almost surprising him, Brian had gotten along with everyone.

"So, what's the deal with Jerome and those two?" Brian asked, nodding towards Howard and Eddie.

"Blech. It's stupid and complicated. Eddie and Howard are friends, and they work together. Howard made the mistake of introducing Eddie to Jerome, and the two of them have been seeing each other ever since. Except, you know, Eddie is married. With kids. In the closet. Like most rational people, Howard thinks the two of them together are a bad idea, but what can you do? They're both adults. But Howard won't leave it alone, so he's needled Eddie into breaking up with Jerome more than once. The acrimony between them is mutual."

"And you've managed to stay out of it?"

"Meh. I don't tell my friends what to do. I voice my opinion every three months, just so he knows what it is."

Brian laughed. "I can well imagine that you need to have your opinion voiced."

Justin smiled, and then tugged on Brian's hand. "This is boring, sitting here talking about other people. Come on, let's go join Jerome. Let's dance."

Jerome beamed when the two of them joined. "Well, nice to see that you like to dance, Coffee Guy. Definite improvement!"

Justin just smiled, ignoring the veiled barb toward Howard. He recalled that Brian was not a particularly great dancer, but he had never known Brian to refuse to shake a leg. However, he didn't get a chance to relive old memories as Jerome cut in, choosing his partner for the song. Or songs.

Gamely, he danced with others as Jerome decided that he was going to hog Brian. He didn't mind; he was actually glad that at least two of his friends were getting along.

Then he had to remind himself that Brian wasn't a friend; he was only here through a series of accidents, and Jerome's incessant meddling.

Shaking his head, Justin closed his eyes, losing himself in the music. It was a celebration, and he didn't want to think.

After a while, Jerome abandoned Brian and moved closer to Justin.

"Were you jealous?"

Justin laughed. "You wish."

"I do! I really do!"

Justin kissed Jerome. "I'm never going to be jealous of you. I hope you know this."

"So you'd be jealous of others then?"

"I have nothing and no one to be jealous of. Now, can we dance, and stop being silly?"

"Come on Sunshine, you have to take a turn with everyone."

"It's not my birthday, you know."

Nevertheless, he moved closer to Brian, dancing with him in tandem.

"This is an achievement. Way better than a birthday."

Justin laughed. He laughed, but he was nervous. Dancing with Brian suddenly seemed like a really bad idea. He remembered what it had been like, even if it was five years ago. The passion, the electricity of being so close to the man…Justin gave his head a mental shake.

That was five years ago. Things were going to be normal and boring and fine now.

Brian grabbed his hand and drew Justin closer to him. He then snaked an arm around Justin's neck, swaying to and fro. His other arm was wrapped lightly around Justin's waist. They moved in time with the music and the steady beat.

He had to be careful. Brian made him do stupid things.

Brian seemed oblivious to all the thoughts and worries racing through Justin's mind. He just kept dancing, their bodies brushing against each other more and more, each touch more personal than the last one.

Justin felt as if it was only the two of them on the dance floor. Brian slid one leg between Justin's, and drew him more snugly to Brian. Now they were truly one with the shared rhythm.

It had been a long while since Justin felt this intimate, dancing with somebody. Howard simply didn't dance, and when Justin danced with other people he knew, that intimate, knowing connection was just not there. It was a means of burning off abundant energy and having fun, without anything more.

Their eyes met, and Justin could swear a spark passed between them. Brian smiled at him lazily, and a thin veil of desire washed over him.

Shame on me, Justin thought. He couldn't regress five years through just one dance.

Brian was a drug. He was poison, and it would be disaster to get that flowing through his veins again. Justin knew full well how this story would end. He wanted to touch Brian, but he shouldn't. The rational, functional part of his brain told him to stop and walk away.

But it was hard. He was starting to feel the effects of all the alcohol he had consumed. His movements all felt heavier yet lighter at the same time, that feeling of too much liquor and not enough sense or inhibition.

Brian smiled at him again, moving closer, their noses almost touching. Just as he had worried, one look into those big, brown, dangerous eyes and he knew he was a goner.

Justin touched Brian, placing his hand on the man's stomach, moving it slowly upward until it came to rest above his chest, on his collarbone. He ran his fingertips across Brian's neck, eyes not breaking contact. He watched the play of lights move across Brian's face. His lips were parted in an unconscious invitation.

He felt Brian's pulse under his fingers, quickening. Wildly. Matching his own thumping heart.

They didn't say anything at all, but closed the small gap between them in a kiss.

Their mouths tasted of scotch, a kiss that was soft and strong at the same time. Brian ran his hand across Justin's back lightly, along his spine, down the curve of his back and then up again.

Justin's body almost stilled, as Brian's touch made his skin tingle and…

This was all wrong, a dim voice in the deep recesses of his mind told him. Brian was poison, and he had to stay away. He had done this detox once, and he couldn't let Brian get under his skin again.

Justin pushed away, letting some air in between them. He wanted to run, but he forced himself to stay put, to not show Brian how deeply rattled he was inside. He smiled, but didn't allow Brian to look into his eyes. This would be the first, and the last.

He extended an arm out to Jerome, pulling him in to form a threesome. He saw the question in Jerome's eyes, but fortunately, he complied, breaking up the intimacy into something more light-hearted and casual.

With Jerome joining them, the constriction in his lungs eased. Justin felt that he was in safe territory.

If Brian noticed a change in demeanour, if he wondered, if he was remotely concerned, he didn't let on, beyond a slightly raised eyebrow.

A raised eyebrow that Justin resolutely ignored.

Justin waited for a painful twenty minutes, before he called it an evening. There had been more than enough activity for a day.


	7. Chapter 7

"What fresh hell is this?" Justin groused, as Jerome dumped a file on to the table. "And where the hell have you been all morning? Fine time to walk into the store."

Jerome merely raised a finely shaped eyebrow. "It's only noon. I was at home, working on _that_. I do believe the fair Ms. Parker herself wasn't as cantankerous as you."

"Fuck Ms. Parker," Justin responded.

Jerome pulled up a chair, turning it around and sitting on it back-to-front. "First off, you can't fuck Ms. Parker because you're gay. Secondly, you can't fuck her because she's dead. Thirdly, and this is the most important reason, you can't use her line and then curse her out."

Justin sighed. "I'd say 'fuck you', but I don't want to hear thirty reasons as to why I can't say that, so I will simply think it instead, and ask you, what's in that file, and do I dare open it?"

"Those are the purchase orders. Some of those deadlines just won't cut it. They make no sense to anyone but the idiot suppliers who put them down. I've put the revised deadlines on Post Its, and there's a copy of our master list. You need to check that my revised deadlines are workable for you – in the next two hours – and them I'm emailing each and every one of those buffoons with the new deadlines."

"So it _is_ hell. I was right." Justin sighed. This was exactly the kind of shit he had no interest in doing, but he knew that he had to. They couldn't afford to fuck up stocks two years in a row.

"So. What's the matter with you?" Jerome asked.

"I thought you wanted me to go through this file and double-check the dates."

Jerome rolled his eyes. "It's not going to take you two entire hours to do that; I've already done the actual work."

"Of course you have," Justin commented wryly.

"So, so? Stop trying to avoid the subject and distract yourself. What's the matter with you? You got antsy last night and ran off, and now you're all prissy and foul-tempered. I can start guessing as to why you're upset, but wouldn't it just be easier if you told me what the matter was?"

"I hate it when you're right. It's a good thing that happens so rarely."

"Bitch," Jerome said with a smile.

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me," Justin said.

"Did you think the beginning of that sentence to yourself, and just voiced out loud the last part? Because I literally have no idea what you're trying to say."

Justin sighed. "Brian. I kind of wish he didn't come last night."

"You're mad at me for inviting him?"

"No, no…I'm mad at myself for…having a reaction to him."

Jerome bit the side of his bottom lip, and looked at Justin earnestly. "The two of you seemed to be having a good time."

"Urrrgh," Justin moaned, pushing his head back. "That is _precisely_ the problem. I've done this song and dance with Brian Kinney before, and it did not end well. We know this. Things with Brian Kinney generally do not end well; just look at Michael."

"Isn't that a whole other kettle of fish?"

"Well…yes and no. I mean, according to Debbie and Lindsay and…anyway, we're getting off track."

"Justin. I am _very_ confused as to which track we are supposed to be on. You haven't even _begun_ anything with Brian, and you're already talking of how it's going to end."

"NO. I began something with him a lifetime ago, and it ended badly. Disastrously. And last night…we talked and danced and…"

"And…you were attracted to him," Jerome supplied.

"Yes," sighed Justin. "Yes I was. And that…that rattles me. Because I don't really want to like him, and I want even less to be attracted to him." He ran his fingers through his hair, and found himself relieved to be actually discussing this with Jerome. "I mean…at some level, I figure it's okay even if I like him, because…it's not like I'm going to go nuts and stalk him and be besotted all over again."

"Uh-huh."

"Yes, _uh-huh_."

"I believe you," Jerome said calmly. "Just continue with the story."

"Right. Seriously. At some level, I figure it isn't so dangerous to like him, because I know what he is all round, so I won't fall for him again. But it pisses me off that I was attracted to him. I feel like I should have known better, physically."

Jerome frowned slightly. "I don't think you _can_ know better, physically. Isn't that the whole point of it being…physical? Like Olivia Newton-John says, it's all physical, physical, it's all just physicaaaaal," he sang.

"Yes, well, that doesn't help me now, does it?" Justin retorted. "If I can't control my physical reaction – and I agree, you're right, the point of physical reactions is that they happen despite our thoughts – I should at least have been able to predict what my reaction was going to be, and prepared myself accordingly. And…I was caught off-guard. I didn't expect to be attracted, and I was, and it annoys me that I know myself so little, and it annoys me that I'd be attracted to him. Especially since I thought I was completely rid of him."

"Well, you're clearly not. But…what does it matter? It's done, it's over, and it will never happen again, because now you know, and now you will be able to mask yourself, if ever the situation was to arise again. Unless you get piss drunk that you forget your own name, and you have sex with him. But then, you'd have forgotten your own name, so I'm sure we can spin an excuse for your lapse in judgement somehow. Anyway…where was I?"

"…if the situation was to arise again."

"Right. So. It's over. It's done. No need to be so mad at yourself. We're all attracted to all kinds of dicks…metaphorically. Well, not metaphorical dicks. Dickish people. You know. Like John Wayne. Speaking of whom, Howard looks a bit like John Wayne."

"Yeah…true…I guess." Jerome was right, he thought. It _was_ done and finished, and Brian probably never even noticed anything remiss. It was just a physical reaction, and one that he could control. Brian was just barely a friend. Not even, technically. There was no need for this to be a problem.

"You want to know what I think?" Jerome asked.

"Uh…isn't that what you just told me?"

"Yes, well, everything is capable of being analysed multiple times, from all different angles. I hear that's how shrinks make all that money they do."

"And then they come and spend those dollars purchasing our eclectic items?"

"So we hope. Stop distracting me, just because you know how easy that is. Where was I?"

"Multiple angles?"

"Mmmm…right!" Jerome exclaimed, as he clearly found his lost chain of thought. "I think that you're still mad at him. Brian, that is. You still can't forgive him for kicking you out."

"Jerome, I've gotten past that. And you just solved this problem. Let's not analyse it again to create a new one."

"Meh. It's good to talk about these things. Maybe you haven't really gotten past that. Maybe it isn't the whole attraction thing that's bothering you. I think…maybe…"

"Way too many 'maybes', Jerome."

"Whatever. I think that you thought Brian cared. About you, that is. And he let you down by kicking you out."

"So?"

"So…maybe _he's_ mad that you never called him, because that meant that _you_ didn't care. Unresolved issues."

"No," Justin stated emphatically. "That's not it. That's not it at all." Of course he had been hurt that Brian kicked him out. That Brian hadn't cared enough. Or cared at all. _More_ than hurt. But that was then, and Justin was over it. Well, able to move past it, anyway. In any event, it was absurd to think that _Brian_ was hurt, after all these years. Brian wouldn't give a flying fuck whether Justin cared or not. He shook his head. "Jerome, you are so wrong. Also, you sound like Howard."

"Ugh. Eeeew. So mean. I'm such a good friend to you, and you insult me like that. You've hurt my feelings."

 

* * *

 

Brian hadn't even been inside the club for too long, but he had already forgotten its name.

He watched the bodies milling about, trying to spot a guy that he actually wanted to fuck. Brian sighed. His dick could get into it, but _he_ couldn't. He had been treated to a fairly decent blowjob, but there was nothing propelling him to get some more action.

This wasn't _Babylon_.

And ironically, _Babylon_ wasn't even _Babylon_ anymore.

Brian took a large gulp of his drink, and wondered if this is what it felt like, growing old.

He had been to a different club the night before, and it had been pretty much the same. It just wasn't fun anymore. It wasn't what it used to be. There certainly was no diner- _Woody's_ - _Babylon_ routine. In fact, that routine had seen its demise in the early days of Stockwell. Something he knew everyone still blamed him for.

Maybe he wasn't into it here because no one knew him; by the time they did, he would be an over the hill club boy.

Maybe it was because his 'gang' had broken up.

Maybe, Brian mused, he had finally reached the stage of _been there, done that_.

He looked into his glass, and smiled dryly. At least he hadn't grown tired of alcohol.

What do other people do, Brian wondered. What did _they_ do, he thought, looking around the club, when they weren't drinking and fucking and dancing.

Brian looked at his now empty glass, and wondered whether he should get a new one, or call it a night and get the hell out of there. He had had a nice time at _Woody's_ – the Toronto _Woody's_ \- with Justin and his friends, Brian remembered.

He put the empty glass down on the closest smooth surface he could find, and headed towards the exit, into the dark night.

Brian thought about heading to _Woody's_ , and wondered if he might run into Justin.

The blonde had certainly left all of a sudden, all weird and…weird, Brian recalled. Hmmm…Justin was so different now. So self-assured and…almost held himself away at arm's length. Almost.

None of that explained why Justin had bolted all…weird, though.

Not that it mattered.

Brian pulled out his phone, figuring that he was going to call Justin and ask him whether he wanted to grab a drink at _Woody's_.

And that's when he realised that he didn't have Justin's number, only Jerome's.

Aaaagh fuck it, Brian thought, as he dialled Jerome's number. Technically, he knew Jerome as well.

Jerome picked up after several rings.

"Yo, this is an unexpected call."

"Well, I only have your number, and I'm bored. I could buy you a drink…or several…if you make it to _Woody's_ …or really, any establishment that serves alcohol," Brian said.

"Aaaah. I have sex scheduled in an hour, so I must decline. However, since you're on the phone and eager to buy, you can buy me dinner and drinks tomorrow. I'll even invite Justin."


	8. Chapter 8

"You know, I want to remind you that there are such things called cabs. Cars. Driving services. Even public transport."

"Oh, quit your whining Brian. You're the one who wanted to see the city. Know where you're living. That's what we're doing. And it's not that cold," Justin said, practically laughing at Brian. "Do you need an extra sweater?"

"Fuck you. And fuck your sweater. I have never cycled this much in my entire life," Brian continued to complain.

Justin laughed outright. "I believe you. But this is Toronto. People cycle everywhere. _I_ cycle. Jerome does. You should really buy yourself a good bicycle, and then we wouldn't have to borrow one for you."

"Let me guess. You borrowed this from Howard."

"Nope, Jerome got it from Eddie last night."

"Speaking of whom, when's Jerome joining us?"

"Late afternoon. He's meeting us at the ferry, before we go to the island."

They were at St. Lawrence Market, standing in line to order lunch, with a busy Saturday crowd. Justin had kept their helmets on a table, securing themselves a spot.

"Thank fuck I'm so fit. Who knew that this was what you two would cook up for me."

Justin waved a bottle of water in front of Brian, and the man took it gratefully. "Brian. You called _Jerome_ and said you were bored."

"I didn't have your number, that's why. Otherwise I would have invited _you_ for drinks."

Justin rolled his eyes. "Of course you would have. Well, we promised to keep you busy and to show you the city."

It was true. Brian had openly admitted to both of them that he was bored, when they had met for dinner a few days ago. That was no great surprise, given that he was in a new city, didn't know a soul, and least interested in socializing with the people he worked with. Justin knew better than most what it was like, to be a stranger in a strange land. He felt bad for Brian in spite of himself.

Plus, Brian didn't know Toronto at all. It was no skin off his back to show the man around the place.

"Your city tour is a bit too quick," Brian commented.

"Well, duh. I'm just covering the key downtown areas today. Whatever catches your eye, you can explore in depth later. Like the Art Gallery, Sugar Beach, and Kensington Market – I fucking love Kensington Market – I could spend the entire day there."

"Because it's a hippy, artsy, folksy market."

Justin smiled. "And they have the best food. And live music."

"We could have spent the day there today. We still can."

"You're so lazy. You're just out of touch with your cycling muscles." Justin laughed when he saw Brian's expression; clearly, he was right. "Anyway, the day to be at Kensington is the last Sunday of the month; it's Pedestrian Sunday then. It's awesome. All kinds of street artists and games and music. But that only starts in May, all the way until the end of October. Still, Sundays are generally the best days to go there. You can take you bike as far as possible, and then walk. We've sold our stuff on the sidewalk there on more than one Sunday, quite successfully."

Brian nodded. "Great. So you can show me around next Sunday, then."

Justin was surprised, but he tried not to show it. "I'd have to check the schedule at the store first, but yeah, sure, why not." Brian must be really feeling lonely, he figured. Oh well, before any of us knows it, Brian will surely find himself people his own type to hang out with, Justin thought. He didn't think this socialising would continue for too long.

Hanging out with Brian wasn't so bad, and Justin was all grown up now. All grown up, and aware of both their limitations. He could handle this. He might as well indulge it while it lasted, despite his initial misgivings about having anything at all to do with Brian.

They had reached the counter, where each of them ordered. They didn't speak again until they sat down.

"So. Tell me," Brian said.

Justin stared at him blankly. "Tell you what?"

"Toronto. You. How."

Justin ate in silence, contemplating what to tell Brian, _if_ he should tell Brian, and how much to tell him. Justin had told both Howard and Jerome that he was over it, that he had moved on, and he genuinely wanted it to be true.

Justin looked at Brian. "Are you going to get all judgy on me?"

Brian raised his hands in mock surrender. "No judgment. Scout's honour."

Justin scoffed. "Somehow, I doubt that you were ever a scout."

Brian looked at him levelly. "I promise you. No judgment."

"No judgment, no comments, no editorializing, no questions."

"Promise. Well, I get to ask technical questions. If I don't understand."

"Fine. Fair enough. So. I stole your credit card. Went to New York. Stayed at a hotel – well, you know all this, you had your bill – and…I figured someone would come. The cops, or…anyway, no one came. It was like, two days? One and a half? And, this was my life, so I had to figure something out. I had to eat. At the very least." Brian opened his mouth, and Justin raised his eyebrow. Brian didn't say anything, but put a finger to his lips. Justin continued his story.

"I was in Chelsea, I was young, I could dance…so I got a gig as a go-go dancer. No, I didn't sleep with the patrons, yes, I had to blow more people than I would have liked to, but the money was decent. Especially for a 17 year old runaway with little prospects. Anyway, I did that for a while, but I knew I had to figure something else out. I wasn't going to spend my life dancing on tables. I met Sergey…he was this Russian dude…mob, really, if we are going to be accurate. Anyway, he did construction projects, which is fucking booming in Toronto. And construction beat go-go dancing, so I got him to take me on as a painter and came here. Guaranteed job, guaranteed income, no need to blow strangers at every turn."

Justin tried to gauge what Brian was thinking, but it was hard. The man had his poker face on, and Justin had explicitly told him not to speak, so…

"Construction pays _really_ well. You can make good money doing that work. Which is why Jerome was doing it; to earn good money, quickly."

"That's how you met him?" Brian interrupted.

"Yup, we were both painters on the same projects. And we helped on small jobs – drywalling and shit. If you're willing to work hard, put in the hours, you can make decent money. It's back breaking work, but…it's money. Good money. Plus you don't need fancy degrees, and fucking internship experience, and connections, and all kinds of other bullshit to get into it. And then I had an accident; some donkey hadn't secured a scaffolding properly and I fell; oh, don't worry. I'm fine. Almost. My hand starts to spasm when I overwork myself, but that's not the end of the world. Plus, I got compensation for the accident, and it's always lovely to get a decent amount of money as a lump sum. Jerome decided he wasn't going to hang around and press his luck. I had my compensation. He had his savings. Cheryl – his mom – was willing to put up a bulk of the start-up capital we needed. And the province gives $5000 loan to under-30 entrepreneurs. Now the store is in its second year. It's not raking in millions, but we're both happy with what we've managed so far. We're building a loyal client base."

"No doubt," Brian said. "You've done really well, for two people as young as both of you."

Justin shrugged. "Well, time will tell. The Christmas sales will tell, specifically. And you did well too. With the no judgment, no comments, no editorializing, no questions part. At least you kept it all to yourself."

It was impossible that Brian had no judgment on Justin's past, but, at least Justin didn't have to hear it, whatever it was. Not like the mini-argument-queen-out they had over his lack of a formal education. Maybe…maybe he could actually try something resembling a friendship with Brian after all.

Brian chuckled. "So, how did you meet Howard?"

"Physio. He was getting physio for a meniscus tear, and I was there for my hand."

"So…are you a Canadian citizen now?"

"Yup. I decided to make my life here, so I went all the way. Mel helped a lot, actually. She found a lawyer here, and helped with all the papers and shit."

"Oh yes. Dear Melanie. What would we all do without her," Brian intoned sarcastically.

Justin rolled his eyes. "I like her. And I can give them this same tour if they actually decide to make the move."

"What? What are you talking about?" Brian stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"Didn't they tell you? Mel & Lindz are thinking of moving to Toronto. They're 'weighing their options', last I was told. You should be happy. You'd see more of Gus if they moved here."

"What I'd have been happier with is if someone had told me first."

"Well, they aren't moving. It's just an idea. An option they're contemplating. I'm sure they'll discuss it with you, if they become serious about it." Personally, Justin thought it was a wonderful idea. He was excited at the thought of having Melanie, Lindsay and Gus in Toronto. It would probably do Brian a world of good as well; he'd have his son closer to him, and he'd have friends. "When are you going to Pittsburgh again?"

"First two weeks next month. You? Planning a trip anytime soon?"

Justin shook his head. "I can't leave the store for that long. I'm just not comfortable doing that until we make it through this Christmas. Maybe early next year. Mom said she's coming for a visit in August with Molly, so…that's something. How's Michael?"

Brian shrugged. "Fuck if I know. I assume he's fine."

"Debbie told me that you've both had a falling out."

"Of course she did," Brian said dryly.

"He's your best friend.

"People move on. Move away. We have different lives."

"Or, people fight. You should just call Michael and apologise," Justin suggested.

"What the fuck for? I didn't do anything wrong."

"Nope," Justin said. "Nothing wrong at all, except back the _really_ wrong horse, in a _really_ big way. Anyway, that's not even the point. The friendship should be more important than whether you did anything wrong or not. He's hurt, he lost something…rather, someone. According to the stories I've heard, anyway. You could apologise, and get your friend back. Everyone wins."

"I was doing my job. I'm not going to apologise for that."

Justin sighed. "You're missing the point entirely, but I'm not going to waste my time arguing about this." He checked his watch. "So, we have about thirty more minutes before we meet Jerome at the ferry; let's buy some snacks, because both Jerome and I are going to want them later on, without a doubt, and then head to the ferry early and wait for him there."

"So what's the plan for the afternoon again?"

"Take the ferry to the island, go to the lighthouse, the yacht club, bike around the park, Jerome will tell you a million stories about the history of the islands, show you the beaches – it's unfortunately too cold now for swimming, as you can well see, but you'll know where to come to, when the weather gets warmer. Then we come back, and you buy the both of us dinner."

"You call it a beach, but really, this is an island in the middle of a lake, right?"

"It's local terminology Brian, just go with it."

"And they let us take bikes on the ferry?"

"Yup. It's a car-free community there; they don't have much of a choice. Ready?"

"Ready."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Two things:
> 
> 1) I have been crazy busy this week; I haven't really been able to respond to reviews. I AM reading them, and am ever so grateful for them!
> 
> 2) I legitimately hate this chapter. It is the worst thing in this whole story. I tried to rewrite it, but failed. I tried to write something to replace it with, and failed at that too. I struggled (and failed) to get the idea in my head conveyed in words. So. Here it is. I apologise in advance. This chapter exemplifies the lack of quality I spoke of at the beginning.

It wasn't something Brian had planned, but he found himself spending more and more time with Justin and Jerome, even Howard at times, when he was in Toronto, which had pretty much become his new home. He went back to Pittsburgh for a week or two every six weeks, but he was based mostly out of Toronto.

He found himself doing things other than drinking, dancing, and fucking. There were art crawls and wine tastings and endless cycling, especially since the weather had become warmer. There were hikes and game nights and parks and going to the beach (which was technically not a beach, as Brian took every opportunity to point out).

Not that there wasn't _any_ drinking, dancing, and fucking.

It was just…different. For starters, there was no fucking amongst themselves. That certainly wasn't planned. Not by Brian, certainly.

Justin and Jerome clearly didn't have anything sexual going on between them. Jerome was fucking the oft-mentioned but rarely seen Eddie, whom Brian had taken an instant disliking to. Occasionally, Jerome also took to some truly random men. Brian had no interest in doing the nasty with Jerome, even though he did find himself enjoying the company of the decidedly strange Jerome.

Justin was…heaven only knew who Justin was fucking. Brian sometimes suspected that Justin and Howard were…'on-again'. But he really had nothing to substantiate such a suspicion, except that were he himself in Howard's position, he would have definitely been fucking the blonde. On the rare occasions that Brian allowed himself to actually analyse the evidence at hand, going by Howard's behaviour alone, he came to the conclusion that Justin was treating Howard in much the same manner that Justin was treating Brian thus far – as a friend and nothing more. Brian had the feeling that the situation was not one in which either he or Howard got a say.

Because, _if_ Brian had a say in the matter…

Then there was the dancing. It happened only once every two weeks. Sometimes on both a Friday and Saturday night, if Justin and Jerome had a very good week, or if Brian managed to convince them that it wouldn't kill them to party two nights in a row. This too was different from the style and routine he had had back in Pittsburgh. Justin preferred small clubs where people actually went to enjoy the music and dance. He had a particular favourite – the _Wrong Bar._ The place was small, the drinks were cheap, the music was stellar. If Justin had any say in the matter, that's where they ended up. It wasn't a gay club, there was no backroom, and one was advised to consume recreationals beforehand, because there hardly any dealers to be found there.

Funnily enough, Brian found that he was more than okay with this schedule. He was himself growing out of the constant need to party.

Besides, he understood where they were coming from; starting a business from the ground up was not easy, especially when they were doing all the hard work between themselves, with little money and even less energy to spare. Brian knew that Justin had had to grow up before his time; Jerome, being raised by a single parent hadn't had the easiest of childhoods either, though his mother –and consequently he – seemed to be doing better now, especially when compared to Justin.

Inexplicably, Brian found himself occasionally invited events by Howard. When he was invited, Justin and Jerome were always there. Occasionally, even Eddie. Invariably, Howard's parties ended up in expensive clubs with bottle service and reserved members-only areas. It was always an excellent opportunity to schmooze and expand business. If Brian was honest with himself, Howard seemed to be a decent fellow, but such honesty rarely made itself known, so Brian told himself that he went for the business.

Sometimes, Brian went out with his colleagues. They were fine enough to party with on and off, but he didn't build any deeper relationships with any of them, outside of the office.

Brian found himself wondering about what his life in this new city had become. It was, in a way, the conformist lifestyle he had been fighting all throughout his adult life, except that at the same time, it wasn't.

The lifestyle he pursued had…he didn't know exactly what had happened to it. Well, for one thing, it had somewhat blown up in his face with the whole Stockwell debacle. For another, there was no one in his life to witness it anymore.

At the risk of turning into Ben, Brian pondered at length the Berkeley conundrum of when a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, whether it makes a sound in relation to his own life.

The endless tricking, the not giving a shit, saying a big fuck you to the world by living the most hedonistic life style he could manage…what did any of that mean, if there was no one to witness it? Did any such action still have meaning, when it was perceived by not a single soul who would understand it for what it was?

There was no Michael and Lindsay and Ted and Emmett here to be his adoring audience. Justin and Jerome - especially Justin – had made clear that they had no patience any more for that lifestyle. The values, perhaps. But not the lifestyle.

A thing had to be perceived, or at least observed at some level, to have an existence. Calling oneself king didn't really make one a king, unless there was at least some outside acknowledgement of that.

Just to keep doing the same thing over and over again because that was what he had always done…it didn't make that much sense anymore.

His life was…it was what it was. No apologies and no regrets, but it had come at a very steep price.

His relationship with his best friend was well-nigh irreparable. His relationship with Gus was neither here nor there, and the Stockwell fiasco had overdrawn the goodwill he had with Lindsay. His friend circle was no more, and neither was his community. And for all his effort, he didn't even get New York. He got Toronto instead.

And Justin…for a long time, Brian had regretted kicking Justin out years and years ago. Finding out what Justin had had to do to get where he was today made Brian feel a good amount of guilt. What if he hadn't kicked Justin out? What could Justin have managed to achieved? What would have _Brian_ managed to achieve then? They had a friendship now. How would that friendship possibly helped Brian out, had he had it during the Stockwell fiasco?

Which brought Brian back to this weird non-routine routine he was falling into. The same group of people, doing different things.

Was that a type of conformism, Brian wondered. And if it was, was he betraying himself by actually enjoying this new life?

 

* * *

 

"What's all this? I thought you were making dinner?" Brian remarked, as he surveyed the piles of paper in Justin's living room.

Justin's place was…well, it was not very spacious, to say the least. It was on the second and third floor of an old semi-detached that had been converted into an income property. The third floor had the bathroom and a rather large living space with windows, which Justin used exclusively as a studio and workspace. The second floor had an open concept kitchen and dining area, which was used more as a living room, and the smallish study room that Justin had converted into a bedroom.

Right now, there were several bankers boxes in the corner of the room, overflowing with papers.

"I _am_ making dinner."

"Right. What _is_ all this? And is Jerome joining us?"

"He's on his way. I asked him to stop buy the Beer Store and pick something up. There's nothing to drink here, except just one bottle," Justin said, answering exactly half the queries, from behind the stove.

"I could have picked up alcohol," Brian said. Now that he thought of it, Justin never asked him to get anything, even though Jerome did.

Justin merely shrugged in response.

"Justin. All you have to do is ask. I can pick up alcohol or food or whatever the fuck just as well Jerome, and it would probably be easier for all as well."

"Am I to assume from you pressing this issue, that you actually expect some kind of answer from me?"

" _Very_ astute, Sunshine."

Justin sighed. "Because. If I ask you once, you'll keep on doing it, unasked. And I don't want to end up being beholden to you. To anyone."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. It's just beer. Or wine. Or –"

"Yeah, it's just beer, until it becomes beer and wine and a million other things, before you know it."

Brian walked over to where Justin was, leaning against the kitchen counter. This was a conversation he had been meaning to have with Justin, and was glad that the opportunity had unexpectedly presented itself. "I thought we were friends. Isn't asking for help, especially for such useless little stuff, something friends can do without starting a tab?"

Justin sighed again. "We _are_ friends. That doesn't…there are limits, Brian. There are limits to everything, even friendship. Especially when…whether it's time or money or…whatever. There's a limit to what you can – what you _should_ – expect from someone, and what you shouldn't. From anyone, really."

"It's just buying beer, Justin."

"Like I said, first it's just beer, and then beer plus something, and then some other massive shit. It's always little things, and then they add up and add up…I told you. If I start with small things, I'll soon start forgetting where to draw the line, and therein starts a lopsided arrangement where one person asks for far more than the other. That's how people start having expectations, and then everything goes to hell in a handbasket. I don't want to be beholden to you, or anyone. I like being self-sufficient."

Brian could well begin to imagine the root cause of this world-view, and, unwilling to have that specific conversation just yet, chose an easier criticism. "And Jerome? You depend on him. How is that special?"

"Because Jerome and I are friends…I mean, our friendship is different. We're partners. And more importantly, we're equals. There's no imbalance between us, of either power or money or…"

"Or emotions?" Brian asked, keeping his face neutral.

Justin continued to prepare dinner, just barely glancing at him in response. "Yes," he said simply. "Jerome and I are equals. You and I…well, we'll probably never be equals in this lifetime, or possibly any other dimension either. Why are you getting so bothered about such mundane shit?"

"So, true friendship can only exist between equals?" Brian asked, looking at Justin, ignoring the last question.

"Wow, quoting Plato. That's some serious shit, Brian. Do you want to provide some context to this conversation, beyond the purchase of beer?"

Brian didn't respond, but he continued looking at Justin.

Justin sighed. "Brian, we're friends. There is a…functioning friendship between us. Don't complicate it with all this unnecessary bullshit."

"Is that why we're not having sex?"

Justin started. "What?"

"Is that why we're not having sex?" Brian repeated. "You've thought about it, obviously. I can tell. Sometimes, you even want to. I can tell that too."

"Brian. We're friends. It's working. Being friends, I mean. I like that. I enjoy it. I don't want to complicate things, and I don't want anything more between us. We've had sex before, obviously, and sure, it would be nice to do it again, but no, not really. Not in the long-term. What we have now is good. Like I said, let's not complicate things. There's no need for anything more. No need to fuck up a good thing."

Brian remained silent, and Justin continued to talk.

"So, the municipal election is next October, and work needs to start on it right away."

"What?"

"You asked me what all those boxes were about," Justin said. The earlier topic was clearly closed. "I'm helping our local councillor's re-election bid. We need to elect as many left-wing councillors as possible. I told them I'll work on the website and leaflet design, gearing up towards starting campaigning next year."

"Next year is quite a while away. Next October is a _very_ long while away. Literally, over twelve months away."

"Yes, well, it's a long election cycle. March to October. And we need to be ready. We need to have people on council who'll fix transit and build more homeless shelters and get the fucking safe injection site going, not right-wing idiots who'll just give more tax cuts to businesses and condo developers, and sit on their fat ass and do nothing else."

"Uh-huh."

Justin gave him a look. "Jerome and I are…well, the two of us and this girl Maggie are going to go over all those papers, and update the volunteer and donor list tomorrow. Well, mostly Jerome and Maggie, because I want to work on the website and leaflet design first…you're free to join us... _help_ us…if you want to."

Brian grunted. "I already worked on one election campaign. That turned out marvellously, as you well know."

Justin shrugged. "I'm not forcing you to do anything. Just saying that it might be a different experience for you to volunteer on a campaign from the bottom up, instead of just being a fancy paid executive brought in to win, with no value-based connection. And of course, it always helps when you're on the right team. Right being left, in this case."

Brian made his way to the fridge and helped himself to the lone bottle of beer before plopping himself down on the sofa.

"That remains to be seen…what time did you say you two were going to meet up tomorrow?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews :)
> 
> Having a shitty week, and all your lovely remarks put a smile on my face. Hope you will enjoy this.

There must have been important, pressing matters that were consuming his life up until 40 minutes ago. Brian knew there must have been. Right now though, he could not remember what any of those issues were. His mind drifted in and out, trying to concentrate on the bombshell at hand, and simultaneously trying to avoid it by thinking of other things. But he couldn't think of anything to distract himself with, and he couldn't reason his way through what he had just found out. He felt paralyzed, mentally and physically. Time seemed to have stopped, and everything and nothing was overwhelming him. Brian was vaguely aware of walking out of that office clutching the papers he had been given, and being seated somewhere right now. He wasn't sure where. He knew he had answered some questions before walking out, but he couldn't remember the questions now, or what his answers had been.

Focus.

He had to focus.

Brian blinked rapidly, trying to pull himself together. He had to…he had to do something. He had a job. An office to run. He could go to the office and get through the day. He had to stand up. Brian tried, but couldn't feel his legs, so he remained seated.

Brian took in a deep breath. He was better than this. He had to get it together.

"Brian?"

For a moment, Brian's mind and memory were equally blank. He stared blankly at the tall, well-built man.

"Brian? Are you okay?"

"Howard."

Brian nodded at the man, not quite trusting his voice to say anything more. Finally, his mind and body started to slowly function again. This was good. He tried to stand up, and was successful. Brian realised that he had been seated in the waiting area. He wondered how long Howard had been there.

"Brian, are you okay?" Howard repeated evenly.

"Yes. Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Brian smiled, relieved that he was functioning as he should be, at least outwardly. "I'm running a bit late for a meeting, so I must get going."

"Brian." Howard's eyes bore into him. "You're not alright; I've been trying to get your attention for the last seven minutes."

"Yes, sorry, my mind was elsewhere. Now I really must be going."

Brian made a move to leave, but Howard took a hold of his elbow, stopping Brian from walking away. Brian was surprised by how strong and firm Howard's grip was.

"Are you…do you…Brian, I apologise for my directness, but…did you have a biopsy? Or…?"

Brian's shoulders sagged.

So much for getting through the day.

"Howard, what are _you_ doing here?" Brian asked, instead of answering Howard's question.

"I'm a donor with the Foundation. The Princess Margaret Cancer Foundation," Howard clarified, upon seeing Brian's confusion. "I had a meeting; they're planning the next fundraiser and wanted some input."

"Of course," Brian said dryly. Of _course_ Howard was here donating money. As if they could both be at the same place at the same time for the same reason. Dimly, he realised that Howard had let go of his elbow, but Brian made no move to leave.

"What's your diagnosis?" Howard asked him gently.

"Testicular cancer," Brian said dully. "But not to worry, the doc says I will be A-Okay. Just need to…" Brian waved his hands as he realised that he would have to confirm his vague recollections of the conversation with the doctor's office. He put on air of false cheer. "Anyway. As I said, I must be – "

"Brian, I'm sure you deliberately did not make any plans for the rest of the day. Why don't we go for lunch? I can wait, if you want to call someone and…"

"And what? Talk? Sob on the phone about having cancer?" Brian scoffed. "I'm perfectly capable of handling my problems without turning into a slobbering mess."

Howard looked at him keenly. "There's a fear that goes through all of us, when we hear it for the first time. When we get that diagnosis. When the lab results come in, when the doctor tells us. You can't think about anything else morning, noon and night. It gets better, Brian. Trust me. And talking about it helps you deal with all the emotions that hit you, most of them things you haven't felt in all your life. Talking about it from the get go helps you process it better. And you have to always remember that it's perfectly normal to become upset."

Something shifted in Brian's head, as Howard spoke. "When?"

"Ten years ago," Howard responded.

"What was your…what was the diagnosis?"

"Why don't we go for lunch, and I'll tell you all about it. But first, let me make some calls. Who is your doctor here? I can make sure everything you need is expedited."

 

* * *

 

Over a long and expensive lunch, Howard told Brian about his own experience battling lymphoma, as well the story of Howard's mother, who had succumbed to lung cancer decades ago.

Brian wasn't sure about talking about it, as Howard had suggested, but knowing that there was someone he actually knew, who had had cancer and made it through, coming out of it almost as invincible as he presumably must have been before, immediately made him feel a little better about his own diagnosis.

"I remember I shut down completely, when my doctor first told me that I had cancer. I knew that was what I was being tested for, but I never thought I would actually have it. The minute he said cancer positively, I mentally shut down completely."

Brian nodded, sipping his drink. "As did I."

"You don't have any family, do you? Even in Pittsburgh?"

Brian thought about Claire and Joan. He thought about Lindsay and Debbie and Michael. The family he had had, the almost-family that he almost had. "Nope. Which is not a problem, the way I see it."

Howard nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you have Justin here."

"This is not something I'm planning on sharing with him," Brian informed Howard, surprised that the man would even suggest it. Not only was Brian perfectly capable of handling his treatment on his own, the last thing he needed was to add one more blemish on his already dubious record with Justin.

Howard continued to speak, as if Brian had not said anything.

"You may have trouble listening to, understanding, or remembering what people tell you, when you're getting treatment. Especially during hospital visits. I know I did. It's good to have a reliable, sensible person with you. Justin is both those things, and also a friend."

"I'm not planning on sharing this with him," Brian repeated. "I'm perfectly capable of handling this myself. I don't need help."

Howard shook his head. "You don't have to take my advice. Certainly, we were not such good friends that you need to hold my opinion in high regard at all. But Brian, I'm telling this to you as some type of friend, and as someone who has had cancer: you need…you _should_ maintain honest communications with your friends, family, colleagues and doctor during this. Hiding things and lying just gets so complicated and unnecessary and it ends up making you feel worse, not better. My mother tried that route, and it was devastating for all of us. Isolation was…isolation is bad for everyone. Let your friends help you, even if you don't need the help. It's not something you do just for yourself. Accepting help makes the people who care about you feel good, and useful. Even if you hide the cancer, they'll know that _something_ is going on. Telling them and learning to accept their help will help _them_ feel like they are making a contribution at a difficult time for you. Even if it's just picking up take-out and loading the dishwasher."


	11. Chapter 11

“You’re distracted, and Jerome is late. This is turning out to be a charming dinner,” Justin grumbled, taking a sip of whatever it was that was in his glass.

Brian shrugged. He knew he should have cancelled this dinner; certainly, there were enough and more excuses he could have given, and Justin and Jerome would not have been any the wiser. Howard had, albeit reluctantly, agreed to keep Brian’s secret a secret, until and unless Brian was ready to share.

Also, Brian now had a list of urgent matters that he had to deal with, but he had wanted to live in the illusion of everything being normal a while longer. Which wasn’t working as well as he had hoped, considering that he was utterly distracted and it was hard to think of anything other than testicular cancer.

“You know what you’re going to order?” The mere idea of food was generally enough to distract Justin.

Justin nodded. “The pasta in vodka sauce. Always a sure bet. Now, if only Jerome would get his ass down here, we could do the actual ordering. Brian, what’s wrong? Something’s bothering you. You’re not yourself.”

“I’m fine. Just work. Difficult client. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Justin nodded slowly, but the dubious look on his face said that he didn’t believe Brian’s excuse.

“Do you want to talk about it? Who’s the client?”

Brian shrugged again. “Let’s talk about your work instead. Or anything else, for that matter.”

Justin gave him a look, and was clearly contemplating how to phrase some type of intrusive question, when Jerome plopped down into the empty chair beside Brian.

“Sorry I’m late. What’d I miss?”

“Nothing at all. Brian has some issue he doesn’t want to talk about, so I was just running through some topics in my head that would engage him. Since he clearly doesn’t want to talk.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Ever the drama queen, Sunshine.” He waved the menu in front of Jerome. “Can you decide – quickly – what you want to eat? _Some_ people here are being crotchety, probably because they haven’t had any food.”

Jerome looked from Brian to Justin, and back. “I have neither the time nor energy for either of your drama right now, so save it for later, s’il vous plait.” He waved to the waiter, giving his order after barely a glance at the menu. 

Brian was almost relieved that Jerome clearly had troubles of his own. It would provide him with the perfect distraction.

“Why were you late?” Justin gently asked Jerome.

“I met Eddie.”

“And naturally, you’re now upset,” Brian said. “Why bother seeing a man who upsets you as often as he makes you feel good?”

“I’m not. We broke up.”

Brian and Justin exchanged a look.

“Broke up, or on a break?”

“This is _it._ We’re done.”

“Jerome…you’ve been done before. Maybe…” Justin trailed off.

Jerome sighed. “Nope. This really is it. I can’t do it. I can’t…I decided that I don’t want to be part of it anymore.”

“Well, you’re better off without him,” Brian offered, and it earned him a kick under the table from Justin.

“Something must have happened to precipitate this. You wanna talk about it?” Justin asked.

“I met Hayley.”

Brian opened his mouth to make a crack about Jerome turning straight, but then closed his mouth as Justin shot him a warning look.

“Hayley as in Eddie’s wife Hayley?” Justin asked, perhaps more for Brian’s benefit rather than as a real question.

Brian looked at Jerome silently. Everyone had problems, even if it wasn’t cancer. Normalcy of an entirely different sort from what he had been looking for this evening.

Jerome nodded at Justin.

“Where? How? And didn’t you meet her last summer?”

Jerome shook his head. “I never went to Howard’s gig; ergo, I never met her last summer. She came to the store this morning…she came with the kids.”

“What! Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you call? Did she know? Did she say anything?”

“You know…I honestly don’t think she knew. I recognized her immediately from photos, and the kids, and legitimately, how many married women are there in this city named Hayley, with 7 year old twins called Elizabeth and Emily? Who look exactly like Eddie’s wife. Just one, would be my guess.”

“Uh-huh.”

Conversation ceased briefly, as the waiter arrived with their food, and everyone became distracted momentarily with cutlery and serviettes and the like.

“You’ve always known he was married…this isn’t something that’s really new, right?”

Jerome sighed. “I know. And you can say ‘I told you so’. That’s fine. You were right. You were right all along. Even that Howard was right. Someone was going to get hurt. We were all going to get hurt. But more than that…she was so normal. She was so nice. She had no idea who I was…she didn’t even know I was one of the owners…they were such a normal, happy looking family. And seeing them, in living colour, it was like, what the fuck am I doing? These are real people, with real feelings, and I am fucking over their lives. That could have been any of our families, growing up. She could have been my friend. And he’s lying to her, he’s lying to all of them, and I’m part of it. I don’t want to be part of that deception anymore.”

“Hey, _he_ lied to them, not you.”

“Yeah, well, I was still part of the deception. I saw her, and the guilt just hit me. Which is weird…because…you’re right, I’ve always known. And you’ve all spoken to me about it, and nothing registered somehow. I saw her, and suddenly, it was like…”

“A ton of bricks hit you?” Justin offered.

“Please. Nothing so clichéd.”

Everyone smiled at that.

“An anvil. It hit me like an anvil. Or some other super heavy thing. It was just…ugh. I don’t want to be a liar.”

“You’re _not_ the one who lied.”

“Same difference. He lied, he hid things, and I was his partner in all of that. Even if I didn’t lie directly, I was a part of it. Omission is a kind of lying, in matters like this. How I never saw this before…clearly, I’m stupider than people give me credit for being.”

Justin looked at Jerome sympathetically. “Well, I was always the brains in this operation. You’re the looks.”

“I think you beat him looks-wise too,” Brian said, smiling.

“Brian!” Justin admonished him, but unable to stop himself from chuckling at the same time.

Jerome glared at Brian in mock indignation. “Gee, thanks. You sure know how to make a guy feel better.”

“I aim to please.”

Now Jerome burst out laughing. “Right. Brian Kinney, people pleaser. There is no alternate reality in which that statement could possibly be true.”

“Well, I was trying to make Justin feel better. I think he was getting upset that all my attention was on you and your broken heart, instead of him.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “I’m quite alright without needing attention from you Brian, thank you very much. I know you find that astonishing, but it’s true nevertheless.”

“So you say Sunshine, but I know what you really want,” Brian leered, teasing the blonde more than anything else, as well as making Jerome laugh.

“Hey! I just broke up! You’re both supposed to be comforting me, not flirting with each other. Ugh. Just get a room already.”

Justin huffed. “I assure you, we’re not flirting. And we most certainly don’t need a room.”

“And you’re smiling and laughing. You’re not exactly the picture of a weeping, broken-hearted damsel,” Brian added. “I’m allowed some flirting.”

“Weeell. I don’t, as a matter of fact, feel too bad. It’s kind of nice, not having this secret anymore. Actually, not ‘kind of’. It _is_ nice. Ugh. All that secrecy and lying and sneaking about. Such a downer. I think this whole honesty thing is a better look on me. You just wait, Brian. Soon, you’ll be thinking that I look better than Justin.”

“Enough with that,” Justin stated, looking annoyed. “Can you get depressed again? I prefer that Jerome.”

Jerome giggled and poked Brian. “Look, he’s getting all prissy.”

Brian nodded, smiling. Jerome’s mood certainly had picked up, compared to what he had been like when the evening had started.

Jerome threw his arm around Brian’s shoulders; he couldn’t reach Justin, who was seated across the table, in front of Brian.

“I feel so much better now, talking to you two. Even you Brian, in your non-conventional, non-therapist recommended way of comforting.”

“I wasn’t comforting you, I was trying to flirt with Justin,” Brian retorted, attempting to shake of Jerome’s arm.

He failed in his attempt.

“And _that’s_ what was comforting. Knowing that no matter what else happened, I’d always have such reliable people around me to…rely upon.”

Justin exhaled loudly. “Wow. From the sublime to the ridiculous. _So_ much nonsense from the two people in front of me. Riveting stuff.” Justin tried to sound serious and irritated, but his eyes were smiling.

Brian had to admit, even he was feeling better. The day had been utterly miserable, but the evening was making him feel better, and no one had even tried to cheer _him_ up. There was some truth to all what people yammered on about friendship, he supposed.

“What can I say, I’m all shades of entertaining,” Jerome was saying.

“You’re all shades of _something_ alright.”

Brian drifted in and out of the conversation from that point. Jerome was going to be okay, Brian thought. He clearly did feel better about not having a secret anymore, even though he had always maintained that it never bothered him to begin with. Sure, Jerome would undoubtedly feel like shit now and again in the coming weeks, but Brian figured that he’d be okay. Especially given that he really did have a reliable friend to depend on.

Maybe _two_ reliable friends.

Brian wondered if, months from now, he’d come to regret not saying anything to these two, old friend and new.

Not that remaining silent was a lie, a point discussed by Justin and Jerome earlier.

Still.

Howard knew, accident though that was.

Brian’s decision had been made from the very beginning to not say anything. He didn’t have to; he could handle this himself, he didn’t need help.

And yet, it was beginning to feel like not such a great idea. Between Howard’s rambling, and Jerome’s crisis, Brian was beginning to have second thoughts. Jerome’s experience right now would certainly have been different, if he had had to deal with it alone. And…there was no saying what it was that awaited Brian. Would it be so bad to have these two as company along the way?

It’s _not_ that he needed anyone, Brian told himself. It was just that…it didn’t seem so bad to share the fact that he had cancer with Justin and Jerome. At least they’d make him laugh. Neither of them were the pitying type, after all.

Besides, Howard was right; even if he didn’t say _what_ the problem was, Justin, and likely even Jerome, would guess that there _was_ problem. After all, it had only taken Justin the early part of dinner to figure out that something was bothering Brian. So much effort to lie his way through an event, when it just might be easier to tell the truth.

He felt Jerome knock his shoulder.

“What?”

“You weren’t listening to a word we were saying, were you?”

“No. I’m sure you were whining about your hair, or your shoes, or something, and that makes my dick soft.”

Jerome rolled his eyes. “Of course it does. I understand though, given your age, your dick is generally soft, so I know where you can get prescription-free Viagra from.”

Brian sighed. “Yeah, well, Viagra isn’t exactly the medicine I might soon be on.”

“Are you sick?” Justin asked, concern evident in his voice and expression.

“Not really. Testicular cancer. Nothing a dash of surgery and radiation can’t help,” Brian said flippantly, attempting casualness.

Justin stared at him, fork and pasta suspended mid-air.

“Well,” Jerome said, after a slight pause, “you sure know how to steal the spotlight.”

 

* * *

Brian propped himself up on his elbows, looking around. He wasn’t as groggy now as he had been the last time he woke up. Good sign, he supposed. Surgery had gone better than he had expected; true to his word, Howard had indeed ensured that Brian received the fastest, most efficient, and the absolute best treatment from the hospital. Nevertheless, he was nowhere near normal, and, undoubtedly, the radiation treatment that was scheduled to take place several weeks from now would do nothing to expedite his recovery.

He looked around his room. The bed was a mess, and Brian wondered if Justin had slept next to him, or used the guest room, or even the couch. He honestly could not remember a damn thing. He knew that Justin had been here last night. He recalled snippets of having dinner in bed, because he didn’t have the energy to make it to the dining table, though he had told Justin that he just couldn’t be bothered. Everything else was quite hazy. Maybe Justin had left. Though Brian couldn’t remember the details, he did remember being a complete asshole to Justin.

There were no remnants of dinner anywhere in the room now.

Brian heard clanging downstairs, and realised that Justin was still here. Despite himself, he took comfort in the fact that he wasn’t alone.

He contemplated going downstairs as he was, but decided that there were some advantages to being clean, not the least of which was that he wouldn’t smell so rank. Thus, his first stop for the day was the shower. When he had finished, and came back into the room to put on some clean clothes, he saw that the bed had been stripped of the sheets from last night, and fresh bedding had been laid out.

Brian made his way down the stairs slowly, and found Justin puttering about in the kitchen.

“You’re not my housemaid. I can change the sheets myself.”

Justin looked at him. “Brian, charming as always. Lunch? I’m making some risotto. I was going to wake you up, but then you got up on your own. Thank heavens, because I was getting hungry. Do you want to eat at the table, or on the couch?”

“The couch.”

“Unless you want to go back to bed. I can bring the food upstairs…”

“The couch. I’m sick of lying in bed like a fucking invalid.”

“Couch it is, then.”

Brian plopped himself onto the couch rather ungracefully, and Justin brought him his lunch. Brian couldn’t believe he had slept through breakfast, all the way past noon. That realization suddenly made him feel ravenous.

Justin sat down next to him, with a plate with twice the amount of food that Brian’s one had, and remote in hand.

They ate in silence for a while, with the television providing some background noise.

“I don’t need you here twenty four hours a day. Don’t you have a fucking business to run? When the fuck are you going to leave?” Brian wasn’t even sure why he said that. It was quite clear to him that he needed _someone_ with him, even if not for a full twenty four hours. He was sleeping through half the day, and was exhausted most of the time. But the mere thought of being so weak, and being seen so weak made him angry. Being sick. Having cancer. The whole experience was so incredibly frustrating. Even though there was almost no coddling and pity from Justin or Jerome…just _being_ so helpless. It was the worst feeling of his life.

Justin continued to eat for a while without missing a beat, and without saying anything. Brian began to wonder if Justin would just walk out after he finished his meal.

Justin finally turned and looked at him. “Are you done? You’ve been a right royal bitch for the better part of the last few days, not just to me but also to Jerome, and I’m mildly curious as to whether this absolutely foul behaviour is going to continue for much longer, just so we can be prepared.”

“You don’t have to fucking be here. Get out. Leave. Who asked for your help?”

Justin sighed. “I’m going to take that as a no. And yes, I realise that no one, least of all you, asked for help dealing with what most normal human beings would recognise as being an issue a person cannot manage on their own. You have… _had_ …cancer. I get that you feel angry. No one is ever ready to have fucking cancer. And that’s totally justifiable. I get that there is no real way for you to express all that anger and frustration. Not like you can work it off at the gym, or punch those boxing bag things.” Justin paused, as he reached over to take a long sip from some unidentifiable drink that he poured out for himself.

“I understand that your only outlet is to keep lashing out at the only people who have chosen to be around you, and help you. I’m going out on a limb and assume that you don’t really say this shit on purpose, or because you mean it. Jerome understands that too. So, if you need to vent, vent away. It’s water off a duck’s back. But. All this shit about not asking for help and needing help and how we should not be here and all that nonsense…welcome to the world of friendship. I’m here helping you because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do. So. This is the first - and _last_ \- time I’m giving this speech. Plus, you live in a two-storey condo. If you can’t deal with your friends-cum-caregivers, go upstairs. Or downstairs. Just…use the stairs. Are we done with your tantrum now?”

“Fuck you,” Brian said, but there was no venom in it. Justin’s quiet monologue had taken the wind out of his sails. Clearly, there would be no more venting for a while. Having cancer was hard. Learning to accept help from people – _friends_ – was harder still.

“Are you planning on going back to work next Monday?” Justin asked.

“Yes. I think I’ll be fine by then. And if I’m not, I’ll just leave work early.”

“Are you done? You want some more?”

Brian contemplated the question. “Maybe just another spoon.” Now he realised why Justin’s plate had seemed to be piled with food; Brian had been served less, because Justin knew he wouldn’t eat as much as normal. He probably hadn’t wanted Brian to get more agitated by not being able to finish what was on his plate. He looked at Justin’s retreating back. The blonde was crafty.

“Have you called anyone?” Justin asked, as he returned with the plate.

“At the office? Not yet. Why?”

“No, no, I mean…Lindsay or Michael or…someone…anyone in Pittsburgh?”

“Why? Did something happen? Did something happen to Gus?”

“No, no, no, no. Gus is fine. I meant…about you. Did you tell anyone you had surgery?”

“Why the fuck would I?”

Justin shrugged. “I dunno. Because they’re your friends?” Brian raised an eyebrow at him, and Justin rolled his eyes. “Come on. They’re your friends, at least in a manner of speaking.”

“Whatever. They’re not here. I’m not there. Not that it would make a difference. People who need to know, already do.”

 

* * *

 

“What’s new since I last saw you, Mr. Lessard?” Brian watched as Jerome daintily unpacked the knapsack that he had brought with him.

“Absofuckinglutely nothing. Considering that I broke up recently, I have _no_ life whatsoever. I can contemplate existential issues in relative luxury at your place.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Ever the drama. Didn’t you have a life beyond your ex? Because I distinctly recall that you did. I’m sure you have a life outside of hanging around here.”

“Tut tut, you’re undergoing radiation. Nothing is distinct for you,” Jerome said, patting Brian on the head like a grandmother, before plopping himself down on the adjoining two-seater. “Besides, I’d feel guilty if I wasn’t here. What if you die? Or slip somewhere because you became dizzy, and end up in a permanent coma? We’d be the prime suspects, Justin and I. Worse still, they’ll make a Lifetime movie about you, painting you out to be some kind hero, and we’d be the callous people who chose to drink and party and let their friend die. Thanks, but no thanks. My reputation is at stake here.”

Brian tried his best not to smile. It was a relief to not be surrounded by people who would coddle him and drown him in pity.

“Since it’s just the two of us, I’m going to make dinner in about an hour. I know you secretly prefer my cooking to Justin’s. Even though you never say it.”

Brian merely raised an eyebrow.

“Until then, I thought we could watch _Dr. Who_. Do you want to watch something else? Do you want to sleep some more? Or are you going to read one of your pretentious magazines, and make snarky comments about the show?”

Brian considered the options. “I’ll read a pretentious magazine here, until I fall asleep.”

Jerome clapped his hands in delight. “Oh good! I knew you’d watch it with me. The magazine’s just a cover. You know, the good thing about prolonged treatment and recovery is that you get to read all the books you’ve been meaning to read since you were thirteen, and you get to watch all these great shows, without being accused of being a slob.”

“So I should be grateful?”

Jerome handed him some magazines, before he set up the DVD player – he had obviously brought his own DVD set. “Meh. Grateful schmateful. Just make the best of it. You’d never watch _Dr. Who_ otherwise, and that would be a tragedy. Do you need a pillow? You look vaguely uncomfortable.”

“I need a pillow.”

Jerome hit play before he went in search of a pillow, returning with not one, but two.

“Is Justin going to join us for dinner?”

Jerome had his back to Brian. “Not sure. I doubt it. We can’t wait for him to eat, just so you know. You need to eat on time, and I need to eat.”

“You guys receiving stock today? How come you’re not with him?”

Jerome gave him a weird look. “There are no deliveries for today. Justin had to…he had to meet Howard.”

“Oh.” Brian wasn’t sure how he felt about that, so he didn’t respond. He had a pretentious magazine he had to pretend to read.

“Are you jealous?”

“Of course not,” Brian replied, and the answer was too quick, even to his own ears.

“Are you mad at him?”

“Of course not.”

“You’re recovering from surgery, getting radiation, and you’re sick. Are you _sure_ you’re not mad at him, because you think he should be here, instead of there?”

“He’s been here far more often than he should have been, as I pointed out to him on more than one occasion. He can go do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. I don’t care.”

“They’re not sleeping together, you know. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I don’t care. Aren’t you missing your show?”

Jerome shrugged. “I’ve seen it about four million times. In case you change your mind and decide that you do, in fact, care, and my money is on you caring, I’m letting you know that they’re not sleeping together. They used to, but not anymore. I know the two of you don’t discuss these things, but he and I do.”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

“Uh-huh. You’re welcome.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 

Justin felt bad for Howard. Jerome had been right, as was his wont, went it came to the lives of other people. Howard had been hurt, Howard was hurt, and Howard was going to get hurt again.

It had been months and months since the two of them had indulged in anything remotely resembling physical intimacy. And that had been a conscious decision made by Justin, and one he had discussed with Howard. It wasn’t the first time Justin had suggested they take a break from each other – hell, they had been on such a ‘break’ before his first show, and they both been okay with crossing the line now and then.

But Justin was never going to want Howard as anything more than a friend; the longer he indulged in a sexual relationship with the man, the more hurt there would have been at the end. So the last time Justin had insisted on a break, which had been in the spring, he had stuck to it. Howard was nothing more than a good friend, and he had treated Howard as only that. He knew Howard held out hope that time would change Justin’s mind, but the man had enough patience, and respect for Justin, to not say anything much.

It was working for Justin. He was more than happy to have Howard as a friend, and nothing more. He missed the sex, for sure, but he didn’t miss it enough to deliberately keep hurting Howard, and in the process, ruin their friendship.

Jerome knew what was going on, and, though he didn’t say it in so many words, he knew that Jerome was thrilled. The guy had never been a fan of Justin and Howard having a relationship. The person that Justin had _not_ told about the change in the relationship between Howard and himself was Brian.

He told himself that Brian had never expressed even a remote interest in knowing about what was going on between him and Howard, so there seemed to be no reason to suddenly ‘update’ him. But if Justin was honest with himself, it was a form of self-protection. It had been five years ago, but despite what he told everyone, he had been hurt by Brian. And when Brian had turned up in Toronto, Justin had preferred to not have anything to do with the man. Yet, because Brian was Brian and had this inexplicable ability to draw people to him, here they were. Actual, legitimate, friends. It was not what Justin had expected or planned on. So, for the better part of the year, he was happy to have let Brian believe something other than the truth about Howard and himself, because it provided some sort of barrier between them. Until Justin knew for sure that he was safe from falling for Brian, an invisible wall of an imaginary sort-of boyfriend provided protection.

Except, he knew that soon, the jig would be up. Howard was a decent person, and had been very helpful and kind over Brian having cancer. Justin knew that the two men were in touch; there was no telling when Howard would let something slip.

Especially now that Justin was about to break his word to Howard regarding an old promise.

“What’s on your mind, Justin? I’ve never seen you take so long to finish a meal…either the quality of food here has deteriorated so much that I should complain, or…”

Justin smiled at Howard. “Or, I’m distracted.” He had been avoiding the main reason he had asked to meet with Howard; better to leave uncomfortable conversation for the end of the meeting, Justin had figured. Well, here they were.

“Is it Brian? Is he not doing better? I spoke to him briefly yesterday, and he seemed fine.”

Justin sighed. The genuine concern in Howard’s voice made him feel even more uncomfortable, even though it shouldn’t have. Brian had nothing to do with this.

“No, it’s not Brian. He’s doing much, much better. It’s…I’m sorry. I know you’re going to be disappointed by what I have to say.”

Howard looked at him questioningly.

“I know I promised to spend this Christmas with you…”

“And now you’ve changed your mind,” Howard stated flatly.

Justin sighed. “Howard, to be fair, we had planned this a very long time ago.”

Howard shook his head lightly. “I know that. I know that it was…we’re still friends, Jus. Friends are allowed to go on a holiday together. Spend Christmas together.”

“Yeah, but…I think you and I are good now. And going on a holiday together…I think it might fuck things up, and I don’t want that to happen. Besides, I can’t go anywhere now. Brian is sick, Jerome is getting over Eddie…there’s no way I can leave either of them.”

“Going on a holiday together is not going fuck up our friendship. Moreover, you deserve time off; you’ve worked yourself to the bone. You’ve earned yourself a pampered vacation.”

“I disagree about your first point. And in any event, I just can’t now. There’s no way I’m going to leave Brian and Jerome now, just to have fun on my own for two weeks.”

“You yourself said Brian is doing much better; he’s hardly knocking on death’s door. And Jerome…well. He’s going to be fine. Broken hearts never killed anyone, and I very much doubt that Jerome is going to be the first casualty. A week or two without you is not going hurt either of them. I want you to stop worrying and just come with me. Treat yourself to some fun. Please.”

 Justin smiled apologetically, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I honestly think it’s best for all of us. Brian needs to know that his friends aren’t going to abandon him at the first given opportunity, and that I wasn’t just there because I pitied him having cancer. Jerome needs to know that he isn’t alone. And…I know you want me with you, but I think they need me. And I want to be here, with them.”

 

* * *

 

There were multiple reasons for Howard to meet with him, Brian realised. At the outset, Howard wanted to know how he was doing, which was understandable, if mildly annoying. At the same time, Howard had been in Brian’s exact same position, and there were questions Howard could answer practically and insight he could give stemming from lived experience, which doctors could only give from a theoretical perspective. Thus, though Brian would never admit it, he appreciated Howard being there at some level.

Then there was the question of Justin. Brian had always assumed that Justin and Howard had something going on; they certainly had when Brian had met both of them. But given what Jerome had told him recently…apparently not. Apparently, Justin and Howard had been just friends for many months now. Just like Brian and Justin. Had Brian known…he shook his head. Had he known, Brian still would not have been able to do anything, given the fact that Justin had explicitly told him that Justin wanted nothing more than to be just friends. And Howard wasn’t a bad person. He was almost likeable. That and the fact that Justin was holding something back. He had assumed it to be the unspoken fact that Justin was taken, but, that had now proven to be false assumptions. Nevertheless, Justin was still holding back _something_ , and Brian had mostly been distracted with his cancer to make any attempt to find out what.

Brian turned his eyes back to Howard, who was just wrapping up a conversation on his cellphone. Ever the power-broker, Howard had contacts that could become Brian’s clients, and Brian was always open to the idea of expanding business.

“Sorry about that,” Howard said, as placed his phone back in his pocket. “I’m glad you’re open to the idea; I will give your information to Jared, and he will get in touch with you directly. I want to see his business do much better than where it is now.”

Brian nodded. “You’ve invested in it.”

“Of course. It’s a great concept. It can be a real money-maker. He just needs to get the word out there. Don’t worry – I’m a silent investor. I certainly will not be poking my finger into marketing and advertising things, except in instances like this, to make sure that Jared gets someone competent to handle it.”

“Don’t worry. It’s in safe hands.” Brian glanced at his watch; he had a lot of work to catch up on, and wondered how much longer Howard would take. The man was making no move to leave; clearly there was something more he wanted to discuss.

Howard took the hint. “I know you have a busy schedule, but there is just one more thing I want to discuss with you before I leave. We’re all adults here, and I don’t want to beat around the bush and play silly games. Is Justin in love with you?”

Brian knew that the surprise on his face was evident, despite his efforts at hiding it. “Isn’t that a question best posed to Justin?”

“Perhaps. But I’m not sure I’d get an honest answer. I’m not sure that Justin knows the answer.”

Brian nodded slowly, contemplating. Something must have happened to precipitate this, though he couldn’t imagine what. _Was_ Justin in love with him? He _had_ been, a very, very, long time ago. He didn’t act like that now. Though…

“I don’t know. He has no reason to be.”

Howard looked at Brian incredulously. “ _That’s_ your answer? That he has no reason to be, and you don’t know? Surely, you’re more perceptive than that.”

Brian shrugged. “I’ve never been privy to the inner workings of Justin Taylor’s mind. I’m not sure what you expect from here, Howard. Even if I knew the answer to that question, it’s not something I would share with you.”

“I’ve stepped back and let Justin do whatever he wants, because I sensed there was something between the two of you that I wouldn’t be able to compete with. But if there is nothing there between you both, if you have no interest in pursuing anything, and all you’re going to be are good friends from now till eternity, then…it’s only fair that I get a chance with a person you obviously don’t want.”

“Howard, with all due respect, I’m not going to be discussing with you what I want, and I can tell you that I have not a clue about what he wants. This is a conversation you need to be having with him, not me. I don’t know why you’d have this discussion with me.”

Howard looked at him, shaking his head. “Brian, the sheer weight of what you don’t know could sink the Queen Mary.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

When they had left Toronto, there had barely been any snow, though some mild snowfall had been forecasted for the afternoon. As soon as they were outside of the Greater Toronto Area, however, they had been engulfed in rapid, heavy, snowing.

"Stop it. If you keep glancing at me with those judgy eyes, I'll crash the car on purpose," Jerome intoned.

"That you'd crash the car regardless is what I'm afraid of," Brian muttered.

"Enough, both of you," Justin commanded from the back, and kicked the back of Brian's seat. "I didn't let you sit in the front so that you could antagonise the driver."

"I didn't put myself through surgery, _and_ weeks of radiation, just to end up dead on a snow-covered Canadian highway."

Jerome scoffed. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done so weeks ago, instead of cleaning up your puke. Believe me, I didn't have to get you on the highway for that."

"Oh my goodness! Both of you – STOP!" Justin howled in exasperation. "The whole point of this trip was to relax and relieve stress. Instead, I think I'm getting an ulcer just from this drive alone."

"If you had let me drive – either of you – we wouldn't be having this conversation," Brian said, but he decided to tone it down. Justin seemed genuinely stressed.

"Have you ever been to Coburg?" Jerome asked, his eyes on the road.

"I've driven in the snow."

"But you haven't driven to Coburg, let alone beyond it. Ergo, my driving. I'm so hungry I could gnaw off my own arm. I can't wait to eat. Brian, did you buy me a present?"

"I thought we weren't doing Christmas presents."

"You had fucking better have a present for me in your fancy-ass luggage. Otherwise, I'm going to throw you into the lake while you sleep."

Justin laughed, and Brian sniggered. He had, in fact, found the time to get both Jerome and Justin gifts. Jerome's mother had been tough, seeing as how he was going to spend a week at her cabin, it was Christmas, and Brian had never even met her. Justin and Jerome had insisted that all he had to buy was wine and cheese and she would be happy, and ultimately, Brian had succumbed to buying very expensive wine and very expensive cheese.

Brian's original plan, formulated many months ago, had been to be in Pittsburgh for Christmas, even though he had known that he would enjoy very little of it. But Gus was there, and Christmas seemed like the best time to visit him.

However, his unexpected health issues had changed that. Not knowing how he was going to feel after surgery or radiation, he had gone to Pittsburgh just before the surgery. And while he had recovered now, there were times Brian felt exhausted at the end of the day, and he knew that his body was still healing. Thus, he had decided to stay in Toronto, and in turns, Gus had been taken to Florida for Christmas by his mothers. Brian wasn't upset; he was actually hoping for a stress-and-activity-free holiday, and, Lindsay had confirmed a trip to Toronto with Gus in early January.

When Justin had invited him to spend Christmas in the country, Brian had had no reason to refuse.

"This is cottage country, and your mother lives here all year round?"

"Yup. Proper log cabin and all. Acres of land. Hardly any people. One dog. She takes the loner artist mindset a little too seriously."

"It's a pretty amazing place," Justin chimed from the back. "There's a sauna and a Jacuzzi – I kid you not – in a fucking log cabin - and one of those ancient stoves that heat up the whole place, the lake is just a thirty minute walk, and nobody gives a shit whether you traipse about on their property."

"The best part, by far, is no cable, no internet, no outside world," Jerome added. "Even if you go for a walk, chances are, you will not run into another human. Hardly anyone lives there. You don't need devices that play loud blaring music to mute people. Because, you know, in light of there being no people."

"People are the fucking worst. Really. I'm _so_ exhausted. It's Christmas Eve, and we just barely managed to close the store by noon. Why the fuck can't people buy their goddamn gifts on time? Literally, any day before Christmas Eve will be considered a success. It's not like the day changes from year to year. It's not Rosh Hashanah. Why is it so fucking difficult?"

Having to devote so much of his time taking care of a sick person just before, and during, the busiest retail shopping season probably didn't help either, Brian thought to himself. He turned around to look at Justin, almost wishing that they were both seated at the back. "Why don't you take a nap? I – we'll – wake you when we get there."

Justin stifled a yawn at the mere mention of sleep. "But we have to stop for groceries on the way. We promised Cheryl."

"Sunshine, shut up, and go to sleep. Jerome and I can manage the groceries."

 

* * *

 

Cheryl's place was, indeed, spectacular. A luxury log cabin, in the middle of nowhere. They had arrived a little after two in the afternoon, to a table full of food that was consumed mostly by Justin and Jerome.

Cheryl was a simple, dignified woman, commanding respect. She didn't say much, except to complain that no one told her that he was so tall, which meant that he would have to sleep in the room downstairs, while Justin and Jerome got the bedrooms with slanted ceilings upstairs, closer to the Jacuzzi-inclusive bathroom that was bigger than both their rooms combined.

Right now, everyone except Cheryl was in the room Brian was given, since it was the only room with a television and DVD. Some movie was playing, though only Brian was even pretending to watch it. Cheryl's dog, a mixed-breed called Bandit, was sleeping in the centre of the room. Jerome had commandeered the bed, and was reading a French book thick enough to be firewood. Brian had been relegated to the large, worn sofa that was in the room, and Justin was fast asleep, practically on top of him. Brian was massaging Justin's hand absently, wondering where the remote control was, when he heard Jerome say something.

"What did you say?" Brian asked quietly.

Jerome didn't look up from his book. "I said, you should be doing that when he's awake. Not while he's asleep."

"The idea is to loosen the muscle, asleep or awake."

Jerome scoffed, and slightly raised his voice. "Nevertheless, it's more useful when Justin is awake, because then he can actually _see_ your concern. Or feel it, as the case may be. You know, there's a time and place for subtlety, and this isn't it." Finally, Jerome looked up from his tome to give Brian a pointed look.

A pointed look that Brian chose to ignore. "What are you reading?"

Jerome clapped his hands in exaggerated glee. "I knew it! You _do_ know how to be something other than subtle. Now if only you could direct that skill where it is needed…"

"Jerome! What are you doing taking up all of Brian's bed?" Cheryl exclaimed, walking into the room. "This isn't your room anymore."

Brian felt Justin stir. "It's okay Cheryl. The sofa's fine for now. I'll kick him out when I want to sleep."

Jerome huffed as he drew his legs closer, making room on the bed for Cheryl. "It'll do your head some good to knock it on a few beams, Coffee Guy. He really should be sleeping upstairs," Jerome told Cheryl, only half joking.

"You can't talk to people like this all the time, especially to your friends. You're worse than your father. You're going to really hurt someone's feelings one day," Cheryl chastised Jerome.

"If people have feelings so delicate that they wilt when I say something, they deserve to have their feelings hurt. Natural selection has no place for people so weak," Jerome declared. "Besides, Brian doesn't mind. He can give as good as he gets. Otherwise I wouldn't have invited him here."

Cheryl shook her head in a sign of long-suffering exasperation.

" _Justin_ invited me here, for the record," Brian pointed out. Jerome huffed at him.

Brian felt Justin move, waking up to the conversation around him. Brian quietly pulled his hand away, though he was sure that nothing escaped Jerome's hawk eyes.

"I had _such_ a good nap!" Justin sat up, stretching lazily. "What did you guys do?"

"Everything and nothing, apparently," Jerome said cryptically.

Justin looked at Brian quizzically, and Brian just shrugged, and straightened Justin's sleep-tousled hair instead of responding.

Jerome closed his book purposefully. "I'm going to start making dinner soon." He looked at Cheryl. "Maman, you'll help, oui?"

"I can help," Justin volunteered immediately.

"You should take Bandit for a walk before it gets too dark. He's been sleeping here like a piglet for hours. And if you see Marvin, bring him over for dinner; he hasn't been around at all."

Justin shrugged. "Sure."

"Who's Marvin?" Brian asked.

Cheryl smiled. "The neighbour's dog. He's so well behaved; he's almost human. Loves it when they let him walk with Bandit. Justin, are you going to walk out back?"

Justin went to the window, and looked out. "Naaah, I want to walk to the lake." He looked from the television to Brian. "Do you want to finish watching…whatever that was? Or you can walk with us to the lake."

"I suppose I can take a walk."

"He loves the lake," Cheryl said to Brian, "but it's freezing out there. It's -18 or -19 today, without the wind chill. Make sure you're dressed properly. And watch for the ice."

"Don't worry, Cheryl," Justin said, rolling his eyes. "Brian made it very clear that he didn't put himself through surgery, _and_ weeks of radiation, just to end up dying in a Canadian winter."

Cheryl looked at Brian with some degree of pity as she heaped layers of clothing on him. "I can't quite imagine how you put up with either of them."

Brian smiled. "An acquired taste, I suppose."

 

* * *

 

Just as predicted, Marvin, the neighbour's dog, joined them on their walk. It was the two of them, two dogs, and snow covered land every which way Brian looked. At one point, they passed a rooster, and Justin explained that it was from the neighbouring farm, from whence Cheryl bought eggs. It was real country life, where the eggs were just left outside in a makeshift shed, and whoever wanted to, would pick it up and leave however much money they thought was reasonable. They passed a post office, which also doubled as the convenience store and beer store. The closest urban centre was a thirty minute drive away. This was by no means the idyllic life that Brian would ever choose for himself, but it was certainly different, and was a good break from what they were all used to.

They had walked in companionable silence, and had reached the lake. Brian could see why this was Justin's favourite route for walking, and he hadn't even been on the backyard trail. You could see the sun setting over the water, and there were several small islands in the middle of the lake that added to the picturesque. There was a small pier for boats, now useless seeing how the lake was frozen solid. Justin sat down in one of two small pagodas, playing with Marvin. Brian walked about, and read some of the plaques near the lake, detailing its history, with Bandit running about near him.

Justin was smiling, calm, and seemed to be genuinely relaxed.

This was as good time as any, Brian figured, to broach the subjects that had been on his mind. He walked to the pagoda. "I remember you saying that there were limits to friendship. Limits to what you should expect from a friend."

"Brian…wow…that…we talked about that _so_ long ago. Memory of an elephant, I see."

"Well, we did. Long before anyone suspected that I had cancer. You spoke about how real friendship can only exist between equals. Something about expectations and lopsided agreements. Something about you and I never being equals in this lifetime."

Justin looked at him, but didn't say anything.

Brian continued. "I didn't expect you to help me, you know. With the…being sick. With all of that shit."

"I know you didn't. I wanted to."

"But we're not equals, right? According to you? Weren't you supposed to be enforcing limits on the friendship? Limits on how much to help? How much to ask for help?"

Justin smiled sheepishly. "I guess it's really easy to have ideals and rules. Not so easy to stick to them. But…you know what? I'm glad I didn't stick to that. Because…maybe…I was wrong. I wouldn't hesitate to help you, and I wouldn't hesitate to ask you for help. I was…I guess I really was wrong."

"So…what's the deal with Howard now?"

"Howard?" Justin asked, clearly surprised at the sudden change in topic.

"You and Howard. What's the deal?"

Justin shrugged. "No deal. We're just friends."

"Yes. How come? I thought the two of you were…that there was more there."

Justin shrugged again. "Yeah…that was a while ago. Now we're just friends."

"So I heard. Are you upset about it?"

Justin turned to actually look at Brian, even more surprised than before. "Upset? Why would I be upset? It was my idea."

Brian frowned in confusion. "If it was your idea…why the secrecy? You let me believe for months that there was something going on between the two of you."

"It's not a big deal Brian. Howard and I were always friends. We just had something…temporary going on, and it reached its natural end. He's a great person, but we're from two different worlds, mentally. It was never serious. I was never serious about it, or about him. And there was nothing to really discuss. I'm…I'm sorry if I appeared deceitful. I…just…there was nothing to say."

"Did you think I'd judge you for it?"

"I'm not sure what I thought…"

"This is about us. You and I. Isn't it?" Brian waited for Justin to look at him, but the blonde focussed all his attention on the two dogs, though he responded to the question.

"Brian, I don't know what you mean. I told you. There was nothing to say."

"Justin. Look at me. _Look_ at me." The strength in Brian's voice forced Justin to actually meet his eyes. "Let's be honest here. Why didn't you tell me about things being over between you and Howard? Of all the things you've told me in the last year…it would have taken you two sentences at most. Tell me why you _really_ said you didn't want to complicate things by having sex with me. I think I deserve an honest answer."

It was hard to make out Justin's expression, with half his face covered by his hood and scarf and hat and a million layers wrapped around him, not to mention the ever increasing snow fall.

Justin sighed deeply. "Because I was wrong. I keep saying...but…because I'm still mad at you."

"You're…what? Why?"

"Why? I was seventeen! I was scared, and alone, and my whole world had turned upside down, and I was depending on you. You were all I had, and…and you screamed at me, and blamed me, and kicked me out, and…I could have…and it didn't matter to you. You didn't come after me. I depended on you, and you let me down, and you didn't care. You didn't care to find me. You didn't care to be nice to me and…" Justin exhaled, rubbing his face with his hands, which were covered in thick gloves. "You kicked me out when I needed you most. And I'm still mad at you for that."

"You're mad at me? You disappeared without a trace! How in the fuck was I supposed to find you? You didn't call. You didn't come back…you called everyone. You could have been dead, as far as I knew, and not a fucking word. Debbie, Lindsay, Melanie…even Michael…fucking _Ben_ knows about you, and he's never even _met_ you. You don't think that _I'm_ hurt? That you contacted every fucker on this planet except me, to say that you were okay?"

"Are you fucking joking? Seriously? Why would I have contacted you? Why? Because you kicked me out? Because you said you were stuck with me because of a series of unfortunate circumstances? Is that how I was supposed to know that you cared? Because you fucked me more than once, and kicked me out when I had nowhere else to go?!" Justin had raised his voice, screaming over the gusts of wind, his face becoming obstructed with sudden snow squalls.

"I was young, and stupid!" Brian found himself screaming as well, and he told himself it was only because he wanted to be heard above the sound of the wind. "People say and do all kinds of things when –"

"I was young too! I was seventeen! I was scared!"

They each of them stared at the other, energy spent. There was so much Brian wanted to say, and at the same time, it was as if everything had already been said. It should be obvious to Justin what he was trying to say.

It _should_ have been.

Bandit and Marvin were both starting to whine.

"Brian, come on. We should be heading back," Justin said, his voice zapped of the fire from minutes ago. "Before the snow gets worse. I…I'm getting hungry too."

They walked back to the cabin in silence.


	14. Chapter 14

"I thought the girls were going to go up to Toronto to see you…didn't know they had changed their plans," Michael said, trying to keep the obvious confusion out of his voice.

"They still are. But I wanted to come down to Pittsburgh before that," Brian said. The distance between them had clearly helped; they hadn't argued once since he had arrived at Michael's place unannounced.

Ben walked into the living room, offering Brian a beer. "You'll stay for dinner, right? We haven't seen you in forever. Give me half an hour, and I can cook something up for all three of us."

"Or we could just order pizza…or Chinese," Michael said.

Ben smiled genially. "It's no bother. Brian, what's your preference?"

Brian actually considered the matter; he had been spoilt as of late with almost consistent home-cooked meals. "Sure, why don't you make something?"

Brian noted that Michael watched him intently, as Ben asked him some specifics about dinner before heading to the kitchen.

"Brian, are you okay? You've never actually opted to eat Ben's cooking…"

Brian exhaled loudly. He didn't want to be here, not really. Yet, he had to do this. In person. It was time. If all the non-talking with Justin had shown him anything, it was that he didn't want to waste years and years making a similar mistake.

"Mikey…Michael, listen to me. Are you listening?"

Michael looked at him, confused and worried. "Of course I'm listening," he said, as he moved to sit next to Brian on the sofa.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Michael asked, uncomprehendingly.

"You're making me repeat myself? I said I was _sorry._ About…I took it too far with Stockwell. I took it too far. It was a mistake, and we all ended up paying for it…but especially you." Brian grasped Michael's shoulder. His voice might have been casual, but his grip belied the seriousness of what he was saying.

Brian had dreaded having this conversation, even though it was long overdue. But now that he was actually here, it wasn't so hard. In fact, it wasn't hard at all. It was actually easier having this conversation with Michael, than it had been admitting his mistake and weakness with Justin during Christmas.

" _Especially_ you. You shouldn't have lost Hunter. And I'm sorry that I helped make that happen."

 

* * *

 

"Sooo…this set here…that's my first choice, and they fit the theme. This set here are ones that aren't as good. And these random ones – they're good, but I don't think they really fit with the theme. You're the ad guy. What do you think?"

Brian looked at the photos that Jerome had separated. "It's a hipster restaurant with over-priced food. I think you should raise the price, for starters. Aside from that…" Brian swapped some of the photographs around. "There. I'd go with this set."

"Hmmm…" Jerome looked at his set critically. "I'm going to come back to them in a bit, and see what I think. There's something…not quite right with this selection."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Why do you ask for someone's opinion if you're just going to do whatever you want?"

"Because. I don't know what I want. I was hoping that the bad ideas of other people might guide me to what I really wanted." Jerome stared at Brian. "You've been like a caged tiger for the last few weeks. What the hell on earth is eating you?"

Brian looked around the empty store, and sat himself down in the empty chair behind the counter. "Where's Justin?"

"Painting. Presumably at his place. He's behind on getting material together for the show that woman is throwing together."

"Lucy?"

"Yes, that woman. I knew she had a name. So? Are we going to play twenty questions, or –"

"Is Justin in love with me?"

"Aaaah," Jerome said thoughtfully, biting the corner of his lip. "Isn't that a question better posed to him?"

The irony of Jerome asking him the selfsame question that he had asked Howard was not lost on Brian. "Possibly, but I'm asking you instead. Do you know if Justin is in love with me?"

"Well, that's a silly question. _Obviously_ I know. You know that I know. I know that you know that I know. You're asking me whether I know, so that I will, hopefully, confirm your suspicions. Well, hopeful for you, in any event."

Brian sighed in mild exasperation. "I should've guessed that you'd take this attitude. So? Are you confirming my suspicions?"

"Well, that's another silly question." Jerome looked around the store. "You know what we need in here? A sofa. A couch. Even an ottoman. Something I can lie down on. Not just bloody straight-back chairs." Jerome sighed dramatically, as he plopped down in the other chair.

"Yes, your life is a tragedy," Brian deadpanned. "Can we get back to the subject at hand?"

"What? Oh. Right. Where was I?"

Brian contemplated waiting it out, but then realised that he didn't have the patience for it. "Suspicions. Silly questions."

"Ah, yes. That. Well, these are all silly questions. You know that I know whether Justin is in love with you. Or not. It's also silly of you to expect me to tell you. Because I won't. I really think you should have figured this one out for yourself. Which…I suppose you have, but I'm not going to confirm your suspicions either."

"Wouldn't it be easier for all of us if you do?"

Jerome shrugged. "I heard that the two of you have started communicating with each other about things you should have discussed…umm…approximately five years ago. Progress! Yaaay! So. I don't think I should help you out now. Besides which, what does it even matter? Isn't it a bit too late to be worrying about the extent of Justin's feelings for you? Or the nature of said feelings?"

Brian narrowed his eyes. "Too late? What precisely does 'too late' mean?"

"Oh. My. Gaaaaah. I mean, you are so far in already; it's a bit too late _now_ to worry. Do you even realise that relationships can take more than one…more than one form? Just because the sex and sweat and kissing and bed head are all missing, doesn't mean it isn't a relationship, you know."

Brian stared at Jerome.

"I _will_ tell you this, though," Jerome said seriously. "If I were dating someone…seeing someone…being in a non-relationship with someone…for a year or so, and they hadn't yet said 'I love you,' I would move to an island in the middle of the ocean, fling up a wall of nettles and poison ivy to keep the world out, and curse the human race for the rest of my miserable existence. So…go on. Tell him you're in love with him. Just say it, right now, go ahead, I'll wait. Even a phone call or a text will do at this point, honestly. Like I've said before, subtlety gets you only so far in life."

"We are not –" Brian started.

Jerome sighed. "So that's a no, then? You won't be calling him right now?"

Brian picked up a pen off the counter, and twirled it silently for a few minutes before he spoke. "He's still afraid." He looked up to meet Jerome's eyes. "You know this. He's not ready. He's still afraid. He's still waiting for me to kick him out again."

"Hmmm…possibly. Probably. Possibly." Jerome bit his lower lip again, clearly mulling over something. "You know why Justin is painting right now?"

Brian frowned, thrown off track by the question. "Because…he's behind on getting material ready?"

"That's the bottom line, oui. But. He should have had things ready quite a while back, because the show was to be before Christmas. But he asked that woman –"

"Lucy," Brian supplied.

"Right. Lucy. He asked her to postpone the show – _his_ show – because he knew he couldn't get everything ready on time, with the store and Christmas sales and…you falling sick. This is our business – our bread and butter - but that's his career. That he put on hold, partially…mostly, for you. So…all I know is, between the two of you, _someone_ will be moving to that island in the middle of the ocean, and moving there soon, unless someone does something. And by someone, I mean you."


	15. Chapter 15

 

Melanie and Lindsay bringing Gus to Toronto had little to do with a father-son post-Christmas reunion; that was just an added bonus. They had been contemplating moving to Canada for almost a year now. Justin had been the one to accidentally break the news to Brian many moons ago, but he also knew that Lindsay had gotten around to having that discussion with Brian himself. Which meant that the girls were very serious about it.

He had always welcomed the plan; now that Brian was pretty much living in Toronto on a permanent basis, Justin thought it an even better idea. To that end, he had given the girls a tour of the city that highlighted all its glory, though Justin suspected that it might have just been easier to sit down with them around a table and go through legislation that were LGBT-friendly and inclusive.

The deal-breaker would be money; if Melanie couldn’t find a suitable job in Toronto, there would be no moving. There was nothing much Justin could do about that – law and lawyers were not his forte. He also knew that it wasn’t Brian’s area of expertise either.

But they both knew a person who had all the connections in the world, and could help Melanie schmooze with all the right people.

This is how he found himself at Howard’s place on a Saturday, eating and drinking with the best of them. 

Howard’s generosity of spirit never failed to amaze Justin. To be fair, he had never expected Howard to be so churlish as to reject their friendship, and say no to any requests for help just because Justin had explicitly refused anything _more_ than friendship. Nevertheless, had Howard just shrugged and said that he didn’t really know anyone who could help, or worth reaching out to, Justin would have understood.

Clearly, there was a lot left for him to learn about people and friendship.

“You’re not drinking nearly enough.”

Justin smiled, taking the proffered glass from Brian. “Naturally, you’re here to remedy that.”

Brian shrugged. “Might as well drink while being antisocial.”

“I’m not antisocial; I just don’t like people.”

Brian just sniggered.

Justin looked at him with raised brows. “Oh, come on. Not like you’re enjoying this any more than I am; we’re both just here because of Mel and Lindz.”

“You have another show coming up Sunshine; consider this practice in schmoozing.”

“Pfffft. My audience doesn’t require this level of pretentious hobnobbing. Onto more important things: you never told me that you made up with Michael when you were in Pittsburgh; I had to hear about it from Deb.”

Brian shrugged. “Deb has a habit of exaggerating, as you well know. Mikey and I…smoothed things over.”

“Hahahaha – that’s one way to put it, I suppose.”

 “We had a long overdue chat.”

Brian suddenly looked at Justin with an intensity that made him acutely self-conscious. Justin dropped his gaze. Since their own long overdue exchange during Christmas, the two of them had not revisited that subject. And yet, it was impossible to deny that things between them had suddenly become…had become _something._ The honesty had made things easier, smoother, clearer.

“Speaking of long overdue chats…” Brian continued.

Justin glanced at Brian from under his eyes.

“…we started one that needs to be finished.”

At that, Justin looked at Brian incredulously. “Here? At a party? In a room full of people?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “No one here is paying attention to either of us, trust me.”

“Uh-huh,” Justin said, at a loss for words, and uncertain of what Brian had planned.

“I’m sorry.”

“Brian, not _here._ Not now. Can we just –”

“No. I don’t give a shit where we are. And you shouldn’t either. I shouldn’t have…I should never have kicked you out. You know that I didn’t really mean it, but…for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you doing this now?”

“Because it’s time,” Brian said simply.

Justin realised that he was finding it difficult to speak. He wanted to look away again, but found himself unable to do so. He took a deep breath, willing himself to speak, though his voice was uneven. “Why did you say you were still hurt? When we were at the lake?”

Brian glanced away briefly before he spoke. “I never realised that I cared…until you left.”

“I should have called. I should have…I was immature and petty.”

“And angry,” Brian offered, smiling gently.

“I was an angry, immature brat.”

“One might argue that we both were.”

Justin took Brian’s hand in his. “Let’s be done with arguing.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Our fridge is empty,” Jerome announced, walking into the front of the store.

“Quelle surprise. Did you stock it since your last raid?” Justin asked, without looking up from the receipts he was going through.

“Now you’re just splitting hairs. I was merely making an observation,” Jerome said, as he hopped on to the counter.

“We can do some grocery shopping after we close; I have nothing to eat at home either.” The mere thought of food was beginning to make Justin hungry. “Or, we can grab a bite to eat first, and then do groceries.”

“Isn’t there an EPC meeting tomorrow evening? We’re going to be eating out for the better part of the week.”

“Yeah, well, there’s going to be election planning stuff happening at least once a week or so from now on; I don’t think it’ll all be three hour meetings. At least, I don’t think tomorrow’s one will be. We can go home and have dinner. Fuck. It better _not_ be a three hour meeting tomorrow, because I invited Brian and he actually said that he’d attend. He’s never going to turn up for these things again if the first meeting he attends is a shit show.”

“And yet, even if it is a shit show, something tells me he’ll be back for more.”

Justin looked up at that, but Jerome wasn’t looking at him.

“Let’s go to _Fresh_. We’ll get a table, I think,” Jerome continued, back on the topic of food.

“Or, we could call now and reserve a table. And by ‘we’, I mean ‘you’. Since I’m the one who’s doing actual work here.”

Jerome huffed and puffed, but pulled out his phone and called the restaurant.

“So, where’s your boyfriend today?”

Justin sighed. He had a fairly good idea as to where this conversation was heading, but played dumb nevertheless. “I don’t _have_ a boyfriend.”

Jerome rolled his eyes. “Oookay. Where’s lover boy today?”

“Again, I haven’t a clue what you are on about.”

“Fine, if that’s how you want to play it. Where is Mr. Brian Kinney today?”

“ _Mister?_ Really? He’s your friend too, you know. Anyway, he said he was having a budget meeting.”

“Aaaah. I knew there had to be a good reason for…well, I knew that between the two of you, he’d be the one with the good excuses.”

Justin looked up again, and this time, he found Jerome looking at him in earnest. He had studiously managed to avoid actually discussing the topic of Brian Kinney with Jerome, save and except for keeping him in the loop about recent conversations. Clearly, Brian and Jerome had spoken, at some point. “What exactly does that mean? What did Brian tell you?”

“Hahahahaha! _Now_ he wants to talk about Brian Kinney!”

“Jerome, quit it. What did Brian tell you?”

Jerome shrugged in an infuriating manner. “He didn’t say much. It’s more what he didn’t say. What are you waiting for, anyway? He _should_ be your lover, and he _should_ be your boyfriend. I mean, okay, you two mostly act like it, for all intents and purposes, but still. What the fuck is going on with you?”

As much as he wanted to give Jerome a flippant answer and be done with the conversation, he couldn’t. In fact, Justin had to acknowledge that he had no answer to give Jerome, flippant or otherwise. “I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.”

“Eeesh. That’s helpful.” Jerome jumped off the counter, and started tidying up the store, getting ready to close. “You’re not trolling us, right? Like some nutso sociopath? You _do_ like him, right? Or more than like? Or…whatever the current terminology is?”

Justin shot Jerome a pointed look, and Jerome raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I was just trying to make sure we were on the same page. Seriously though, what are you waiting for?”

“I don’t _know._ I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I mean…we talked about stuff, and he said sorry, and so am I…and…”

“And you’re still afraid,” Jerome stated. “You think he’ll hurt you again like he did last time.”

“No! I mean…Brian’s changed, obviously. He’s not that person…”

“Okay, my bad. I phrased that wrong. You’re _afraid_ that he’ll hurt you again. And that fear is not necessarily rational.”

Justin rested his head against the wall. “I have no idea what’s wrong with me.”

“I just told you what’s wrong with you. You’re afraid. Irrationally so, at this stage. The guy’s changed; you said so yourself. Besides which, he is so _clearly_ devoted to you, and he’s not even getting sex in this current iteration of things. I kinda feel sorry for him, to be honest.”

Justin glared at him. “Stop being facetious.”

“I’m not. I _do_ feel sorry for him. Oh wait, did you think I was being facetious by saying that Brian was so clearly devoted to you? Because it’s true. He’s adjusted his life to suit yours. All the times he comes here, hangs out with us, does our things…he could be off getting his dick sucked.”

“He enjoys our company.” It sounded ridiculous to Justin’s own ears, and he knew that Jerome would pounce on it, which he did.

“Bullshit. He enjoys _you._ He wouldn’t make the effort he makes with me, if there were no you. Can’t you see? We’re all friends, yes, but he’s showing _you_ something more. There’s more to that apology than personal growth, you know.”   

“So…what are you saying?”

“I’m saying…I’m saying that I get why you’re afraid, but it’s irrational, and you need to step out of it. If Brian were to do something stupid again and hurt you like that, it would have already happened. He’s shown the patience of Job, in waiting for you to make a move. And he _is_ waiting for you, given that you’ve rejected him twice already. Just…bite the bullet.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

Brian looked at the empty beer cans on the coffee table, and lazily wondered about the energy required to actually get up and put them in the recycling bin. The credits were rolling on the television screen, and he glanced about, searching for the remote, which was nowhere to be found.

“Justin, this might be a good time to switch off the DVD.”

There was no response from the blonde, and Brian wondered if he had fallen asleep. Wrapped up in a throw, Justin was splayed across the sofa, and Brian couldn’t see his face. Sighing, Brian moved from his comfortable place on the armchair to the couch, and sat down on a sliver of the couch that was visible, somewhere near the middle.

“I’m awake.”

“You couldn’t say that _before_ I stood up?” Brian groused. Nevertheless, he pushed Justin back gently, making more space for himself. “You have the remote. You really should switch it off.”

“One year anniversary,” Justin said.

Brian frowned, confused. “What am I missing?”

Brian felt more than saw Justin roll his eyes. “You. Being here. In Toronto. It’s been a year.”

Justin curled his legs towards himself, waiting for Brian to lean back, which he did. Justin sat up half way, knees in front of him.

“Trust you to remember these things.”

“It’s important. It’s the little things that are always important.”

Brian smiled fondly at Justin. Indeed, they had both come a very long way in the last twelve months. From all he had gained, Brian thought that he enjoyed these quiet moments the most. “Are you getting sentimental on me, Sunshine?”

Justin poked at Brian’s hip with his foot. “For a guy who calls me by a nickname from five years ago, you don’t get to rib me about being sentimental.”

Brian didn’t say anything, but he realised that his expression had reflected his thoughts because Justin leaned forward earnestly, and spoke.

“Which is not to say that I don’t like it, because I do.”

Brian merely smiled, stretching his legs onto the coffee table. It was a Sunday afternoon, and he didn’t know what Justin’s plans were for the rest of the day. He wanted Justin to stay longer, but he decided to not say anything for now.

“Have you extended the lease on this place?”

Brian looked at Justin curiously. “You think I should move?”

“No! I just…I think Mel and Linds will be here by early summer. You have a guest room, so Gus can…I mean…if you wanted to, that is.”

“Are you cooking up a visitation schedule already in that head of yours?”

Justin looked embarrassed. “No…I mean…Lindsay and I spoke about it. Since they’ll be here soon anyway. We just talked about what things might be like.”

“I’m touched that you’re looking out for my interests,” Brian said in amusement.

“Well-being,” Justin corrected.

“What?”

“Interests sounds so…I’m not your lawyer. I…well-being. I was looking out for your well-being.”

Brian chuckled, hiding his surprise. That Justin would actually admit that, without much pressing, was new. New and…a good sign. He wondered, not for the first time in the last week, if Jerome had said something, before giving his head a shake. Of _course_ Jerome would have said something to Justin; Jerome was nothing if not meddling, and was absolutely not a person who would keep secrets from his best friend. That being the case, it would mean…

Brian looked at Justin with cautious optimism, but remained silent.

“We should celebrate. Your being here for a year. And yes, it _is_ an achievement. And…anyway, we should celebrate. I’m glad you came to Toronto.”

“So am I,” Brian said quietly. In that instant, he knew.

“Are you here for good? Would you go back?”

 Brian closed the distance between them, resting his chin on Justin’s knees. “Is that what you’re afraid of? That I’d leave?” Brian asked.

Justin shook his head lightly, not breaking eye contact. “No. I’m just…I’m glad you came to Toronto. I’m happy that you’re here. I’m happy _with_ you, here. Your one year anniversary just made me realise that you could go back, if you wanted to.”

“Why would I go back, when I’m happy here?” Brian asked. His eyes were telling Justin the _reason_ why he was happy here. They were close enough that he could feel Justin’s breath on his face, but Brian remained still, head resting on Justin’s knees, his eyes still locked on Justin’s. He knew, but he wanted Justin to come to him.

There was a beat or two of silence, and then Justin grazed his thumb across Brian’s cheek. They held their gaze for a beat longer, and Justin moved forward. Brian didn’t hesitate to meet his lips in a gentle kiss that lasted a few seconds before Justin pulled away, and looked at Brian with a small smile.

Brian reached out to hold Justin from the nape of his neck, moving forward, lightly tracing the line of Justin’s lips with his tongue before deepening the kiss. Justin moved onto his lap, and Brian held him by the waist with one hand, while the other one was still on Justin’s neck, preventing the kiss from ending too soon. Brian ran his fingers through Justin’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

They broke the kiss eventually, and Justin rested his forehead on Brian’s. “Thank you. Thank you for being so patient. For waiting for me.”

Brian touched his lips lightly onto Justin’s. “I wanted you to be ready.”

“I am. More than ever.”

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so...wow. 
> 
> This story is finally over. I know I have bitched about it in the past, and I can't say that I am still *happy* with it. But, I am happy and proud that I took three chapters from 2010 and barely any plot framework, and managed to do something with it.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who read this story, and who reviewed it, liked it, and just made me feel wonderful about it. You guys are awesome!!! You might have to improve your taste, but you are all awesome :P
> 
> There were some hiccups along the way that some of you are aware of, but we're here now at the end, all is good, and thanks for just being the amazing people that you guys are.
> 
> Last but NEVER the least: Xrifree, my beta and friend. There are simply not enough words or ways in English to say how wonderful she has been, and how she is the best beta ever. This story, especially. I absolutely could not have finished it without her.

**Author's Note:**

> SO MUCH to say here.
> 
> This story is an abandoned story from 2011 that I found parts of, and decided to complete for my own perverse reasons. As such, the story meets no standards, and will definitely feel disjointed in places. I've tried to fix it the best I could, but the end result is still not great. Also, you just might not like the story. If you've come looking for quality, you're not going to find it here.
> 
> Nevertheless, here it is.
> 
> All the good parts are thanks to my beta, Xrifree.


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